One Purpose
by Wannabecriminalman
Summary: A person who's saved the galaxy is a rare find, but as fate would have it, two such individuals from very different galaxies will meet when the Normandy SR-2 finds a faint distress beacon.
1. Chapter 1

**First of all, I realize that there have been a lot of Halo-Mass effect crossovers lately, but I'm aiming for something that's hopefully a bit higher than standard quality. Please let me know if you think so or not. Constructive criticism and fawning adulation are welcome. Chapters will usually be about as long as this one, and updates probably won't happen in sooner than 2 weeks. Enjoy!**

**(Oh, and I don't own anything, Bioware, Bungie, yadda yadda yadda…)**

* * *

Chapter 1

Commander Lawrence Caine Shepard crashed onto his bed in the Captain's cabin of the Normandy SR-2 without bothering to take off his clothes. He let his mind go blank as he stared at the empty fish tank sitting in his room. He was turning in unusually early, but considering that he had been running on stims for the past four days, with about 10 hours of sleep between them, it was time for some real rest. He had damn well earned it. His thoughts slowly returned, as memories from the day crept into his consciousness.

It had been yet another exhausting day, as he, Jacob, and Garrus had fought through dozens of mechs and mentally unstable shipwreck survivors, to face down Jacob's father, who had let the power of being the only sane man on the island go to his head. He was momentarily struck by the irony of that previous thought, but was honestly too tired to care. He had briefly considered just leaving him there to face the angry mob that awaited him after hearing the depraved things he had done. Or maybe give him a pistol, fly off, and see what happens. But instead decided to notify the Alliance. As always, he had to make the "right" decision, if such a thing existed in this universe.

If it were possible, things were getting more complicated than ever. His life seemed to be turning into one tense confrontation after another. It was hard, _hard_ work, maintaining a team as diverse and conflict-prone as this one. Some days it was all he could do to keep them from each other's throats. He could almost feel electricity in the air on the rare occasions that Jack and Miranda were in the same room. Sometimes Joker and EDI's bickering could be amusing, but today it was just irritating. And Garrus, well, he just wasn't the same since his team died. It was frustrating, to say the least, and even in his exhausted state he felt the urge to punch something, or someone.

But of course, he couldn't. He was the legendary Commander Shepard, Hero of the Citadel. People always naturally looked to him for leadership, and he always had to be in control of any situation. Anything less, and things go to pieces. Especially now, with a crew like this, and a near suicide mission in unknown territory to boot. People had always told him that he inspired them, the way he could throw himself at any problem with seemingly limitless energy, and his total unwillingness to quit. They called him a natural leader. But he didn't feel like that now. Now he felt tired, strung out, and a little afraid. If he couldn't get this team to work, he would be responsible for all the colonists taken. It would be his fault that he couldn't stop the Collectors.

All of this was slowly pushed from his brain as he drifted inexorably to sleep.

* * *

After what he swore couldn't have been more that half an hour, he awoke to the sound of Joker's voice.

"Commander, I think you should come up here. We've found something."

Growling, he painfully rolled out of bed, and found a stim on his nightstand. He looked at it for a moment, sighing, before jamming it into his arm. During his slow, fatigued walk to the bridge of the Normandy II he began to feel better, like 100 kilos were just lifted off his shoulders. But as always, he knew it wouldn't last.

Most of the crew of the Normandy was still awake, some at their stations, others wandering the halls. The ship's clock read 8:48 PM as he made it to the bridge and growled,

"This better be important, Joker."

Joker seemed ready to give one of his classic sarcastic retorts, but upon seeing the look on the commander's face, thought better of it.

"Well, Commander, we seem to have found a distress signal coming from that gas giant on the screen." There was a pause, as Shepard expected him to say more. He then replied impatiently,

"So… who is it? How old is it?"

"Well Sir, I can tell you that it is about six months old, and that it is definitely a distress signal." Another uncomfortable silence.

*Sigh* "Joker can you just tell me what happened?"

"Okay." He said defensively. "We were heading for the mass relay, and just exited FTL when the Micromanager 9000 over there tells me there's a signal. Since it's coming from the gas giant, the magnetosphere garbled it so bad that we can't tell what it's saying. But it's broadcasting on all frequencies, and it's got obvious distress taggings. That's all we know."

Shepard considered this for a moment. Probably not a trap, no one even knew they were here. But then, it could be anybody. Maybe someone he wouldn't want to let onto his ship. But he supposed it couldn't hurt to at least look.

"All right, Joker, take us in. What do you make of this EDI?"

The Normandy's AI responded in her usual flat tone.

"It is unlikely that anyone survived stranded in a ship for 6 months. Especially one that doesn't warrant a missing ship flag on the extranet. If possible, I suggest we ascertain the ship's status and retrieve any useful salvage. It is only 45 minutes out of the way"

That sounded like a fair assessment to Shepard, who made his way to the ship's intercom and broadcast to the crew,

"Attention crew of the Normandy. We are changing course to investigate an unknown distress signal. I don't know how this will affect our timetable, but I will notify as soon as we do. That will be all."

Outside the ship, the thrusters burned for a few minutes, placing the Normandy on a new course as it drifted toward the Gas giant.

* * *

In the time it took to reach the gas giant, several of the team had made their way to the bridge, curious about the new development. Garrus, Miranda, and Tali were to his right, Mordin and Jacob to his left. Jacob seemed eager for anything that would get his mind off the day's events, and his father. Joker seemed less than happy about the sudden invasion of his space.

"Look, you guys, it's just an old distress signal. It's not a big deal! The signal was just drifting, the ship might have even sunk into the planet by now."As usual, EDI was there to refute his claim. "Actually, Mr. Moreau, the signal continues to get stronger the closer we get. Unless it crashed into the planet as of thirty seconds minutes ago, it should be quite intact. We should have a good visual… now, as a matter of fact."

On the view screen, an image of something popped up, in front of the glowing backdrop of the gas giant's surface. Just what it was, was difficult to say. A ship, as was expected, but apparently only half of one. And not any kind of ship any of them were familiar with. Shepard was the first to speak.

"Um… just what am I looking at EDI?"

The AI took two seconds to reply, "It would appear to be some type of warship that has been severed in half, originally about the size of an Alliance Cruiser. Profile does not match up with any known starship schematics."

As Shepard took another look at the screen, he saw that it was indeed a warship, and a sizable one at that. Who would just lose half of a warship and not even bother to look for it?

Tali asked the question everyone was thinking, but too confused by the sight to ask. "What could do that to a ship? That looks like a totally clean cut!" It was true. Kinetic accelerators could shatter and hole a ship, but this type of slicing was unheard of. Unheard of, except for what Garrus proceeded to point out.

"Sovereign could. You remember how he sliced Council ships in half like butter. But Sovereign's been dead for two years, why wait eighteen months to activate a distress signal?" Shepard had a grim reply to that.

"Another Reaper, maybe." Everyone was silent as the implications sank in. Jacob was the next to speak.

"That still doesn't explain what this ship is. Look at the defense turrets. Those aren't GARDIAN lasers. They're obviously kinetic. And it's too plain and boxy for any Council warship."

"Some Quarian ships look like that." Tali responded. "The ones we build ourselves. They're designed to use the fewest possible resources, and cut down on luxuries. A very utilitarian look."

Shepard tossed some ideas around in his head before coming to a decision. This find was too bizarre to just leave. There had to be something they could find out from that ship. He voiced his orders to the crew,

"All right, let's prep a boarding party. We need to find out what this thing is. Tali, Mordin, meet me down at the shuttle in full vacuum gear." The two acknowledged him and went to prepare themselves. He would need their expertise to make sense of this, Tali's mechanical, and Mordin's scientific. A thought occurred to him, and he turned back to the AI, "I suppose you've tried hailing the ship, EDI?"

"Yes Commander, there is no reply. But I should tell you that I'm getting some very strange scanner readings…"

* * *

The boarding party was talking excitedly as they entered the shuttle. Specifically, Tali and Mordin were discussing the immense unlikelihood of what they'd found.

"Yes, Mordin, but no Element Zero? Not even the slightest trace? Even if it was scavenged for all of it, there would still be detectable traces. The only explanation is that this ship doesn't run on Eezo but, Keelah, I can't fathom how that's possible."

The old salarian seemed to be talking faster than normal.

"Possibly species evolved independent of Prothean technology. Might be a dead zone in mass relays. But why would reapers leave significant area of space empty of mass effect based technology? And how can a ship move at FTL speed without manipulating mass effect? This is very exciting indeed."

As the debate continued, Shepard just listened while the shuttle took off from the Normandy. It headed toward the only obvious openings, the exposed decks where the derelict had been cut clean in half. As the view of the derelict got bigger, the shuttle became silent. There was something about the ruined gray hulk that gave off a powerful sense of foreboding. The shuttle's docking clamp latched onto the torn deck, and the three boarders jumped into the ship, noting the lack of gravity. They turned on their suit's lights and proceeded into the dark hull, totally unaware that they were being watched.

* * *

Cortana had thought she was ready for anything when the shuttle opened, but she was entirely unprepared for what had exited the strange craft. She had known that someone was coming, but the ship's loss of 97 percent of it's power and the magnetic interference from the gas giant rendered her vision fuzzy, to say the least. Three vacuum-suited beings leapt from the shuttle into the bottom exposed deck. One was obviously a Human, but the other two… weren't. They were, as of yet, completely undocumented alien species. One appeared female, but six fingers and four toes quite firmly excluded her from _homo sapiens._ The other one was simply alien altogether. Like something you would find in second-rate pre-war science fiction. And there was no apparent hostility between them. That was interesting.

_So, now there are 3 completely unknown individuals in the ship who may be our only way off, but are carrying gear and weapons of unknown capabilities, and seem to be able to handle themselves in a fight, _Cortana thought to herself. _Obviously the first thing is to wake John, but that'll still be a few more minutes. _Immediately popping someone out of cryo could send them into shock, or worse._ So, how to stall for time so they don't find John half frozen, but without revealing too much? Play dumb, that's how._

The Trio was unwittingly making their way toward the cryo-chamber when she popped up on the nearest holo-tank interface, and said in her most vapid and artificial voice "Greetings, my name is Cortana."

* * *

If Shepard's feet hadn't been magnetically sealed to the floor when the little hologram appeared next to him, he swore he would have jumped out of his combat suit. Tali and Mordin seemed similarly surprised.

"Greetings, my name is Cortana. I am the Command Data Center Interface assigned to the _Forward Unto Dawn_."

This unexpected turn of events left the team staring for several seconds as the VI stared back. Mordin spoke up first,

"A functional VI, appears human. But obviously not an Alliance vessel. Strange. We should question it. Could be informative."

Shepard hesitated, wondering what to say. He noticed that the hologram did not appear to be wearing any clothes, instead there seemed to be patterns and lines of code running up and down it's "body". Whoever these people were, they sure knew how to boost morale. Well, the most important thing comes first, he supposed.

"What happened to this ship to split it in half?

"Anomaly recorded as of six months, four days, and 58 minutes prior to this time. Massive fluctuations in localized gravity fields. Catastrophic hull failure ensued." The little VI responded. Shepard didn't consider this a satisfactory answer. All it told him was the Reapers might have a new weapon. He decided to press the issue.

"Was it a ship that did this? A large ship?"

"No hostile spacecraft was documented in the area at the time of the anomalous occurrence."

The trio breathed a collective sigh of relief. Whatever the Reapers were doing, they hadn't made it to the Milky Way yet. But that still left more mysteries than it solved. However, with the major question answered, Tali's curiosity got the better of her, cutting in just as the commander started to continue his questions.

"How is it this ship can run without mass effect fields or Element Zero?"

Shepard gave her a look that she could see through his visor.

"Well, think about it Shepard! If it's possible to run ships without Element Zero, think what that could do for the Flotilla! Besides the ships themselves, Eezo is our biggest limiting factor. We could maintain thousands more!"

Despite the irritation of being interrupted, he had to admit that he couldn't stay angry at Tali when she was excited like this. And something that Yeoman Chambers had told him a few weeks ago had been nagging at his mind for some time now…

This time it was his thoughts that were interrupted as the little VI answered Tali's question.

"This ship derives it's power from a deuterium-tritium triple fusion reactor array. I am unfamiliar with the terms 'Mass Effect' and 'Element Zero' as used in context. Please re-phrase or elaborate."

So, it was true then. This wasn't just some secret experimental craft. Whoever built this ship had honestly never heard of element zero. Still more mysteries than answers.

"So, where is the crew? A ship this size should be manned by hundreds. Where are the bodies?"

"Most of this ship's regular crew was evacuated to the _Shadow of Intent _preceding a high risk mission. They are, to the best of my knowledge, alive."

"_Forward Unto Dawn, Shadow of intent. _I don't think there are any ships in the Flotilla with such strange names. It would certainly make casual conversation difficult." Tali interjected.

Somehow Shepard felt that this 'Cortana' was being less than helpful. He knew it was a simple VI, but most VI's he'd talk to were a little less sparing with information. Four questions and it failed to even mention who the ship belonged to. Well, time to fix that.

"So, who built this ship?"

"The _Forward Unto Dawn_ was commissioned by the UNSC Defense Force, and constructed at the Harrison Mallory orbital shipyards at Reach."

"So, this 'UNSC'. They're human?"

"That is correct. The UNSC is the military force of the United Earth Government, and as of January 16, 2532 has temporarily taken control in a time of military emergency."

There was a stunned silence among the group as they tried to wrap their minds around what the apparently malfunctioning VI had just said.

* * *

Master Chief Petty Officer John-117 heard a faint hissing noise penetrate the haze that filled his mind. He opened his eyes and tried to move, but found that he could only lie there. Suddenly, the knowledge of where he was returned to him, and he felt his momentary paralysis pass. As he floated out of the cryo-tube, he noticed that he felt surprisingly comfortable. This new model of cryro-stasis pods took a while to thaw a person, but they didn't require technicians to operate, and had few of the painful side effects of the old pods.

That wasn't to say, though, that he didn't feel anything wrong. The cryo-pods were designed to keep you exactly the way you went in, and that's just what they did, injuries and all. He was really feeling where his shoulder had been dislocated twice and forced back into place by his MJOLNIR powered assault armor. First, when inertial forces had thrown that warthog at him and slammed into his arm, and again when he had then caught himself from flying out of the ship along with it, with that very same arm. He felt several second degree burns in various places, where energy attacks had heated the armor enough to burn the skin underneath. The largest one was in the center of his chest. He knew what a third degree burn felt like, and he was certainly feeling one now. It was where the rampant Forerunner construct Guilty Spark had taken him by surprise with his powerful eye-beam.

That memory brought on a sudden, unexpected pang of sorrow for the person who had been hit in the chest with that same eye-beam, and didn't walk away from it. Sergeant Avery Johnson, the very last person killed in the war, and just when they were on the very cusp of victory, no less. He also felt passing anger for that backstabbing little bastard, Spark. It should have known damn well that they couldn't wait to fire Halo, but was apparently too far gone in rampancy to care. John had long ago learned not to fight angry, but he had allowed himself a bit of relish when he saw the glowing orb of Spark's body explode under Johnson's laser.

The pain of his injuries didn't bother him though. He activated the magnetic soles of his boots, and began regaining his mobility, flexing his stiff muscles. The holo-tank in front of the pod lit up, and he heard a familiar, welcome voice.

"Hey Chief." The small blue woman-shaped hologram said. "Sorry we don't have time for the usual banter, but we've got a situation."

John's military readiness instantly kicked in, and he located the MA5C assault rifle that he had stored when he was frozen. He noted that he still had several clips for it in his armor's ammo compartment. As he made a beeline for it, Cortana decided to qualify her statement.

"Of course, not all situations require immediate bullets to the face." The Chief ignored this comment, and proceeded to check the assault rifle for damage. He then spoke,

"How long have we been out here?"

"About six months."

"So we've been found?"

"You could say that. But not exactly by who we'd prefer." John tensed up at this statement, and Cortana noticed.

"No, not Brutes, but they were at least a known quantity. I have no idea who has just boarded our ship, and the same goes for what they're capable of." This secretly upset John more that the fact that they were lost. There were few things Cortana didn't know, and even fewer that she couldn't at least give an educated guess for. And any situation was a hundred times worse if you didn't know what was happening. That's when "snags" occur.

"What are they?"

"Well, one's human, but the other two are two different indeterminate alien species. Both about human-sized. It seems extremely unlikely that humans would have encountered two entirely new space faring species in six months, Chief. Something is definitely off."

John thought about this only for a moment. In a situation like this, one could only take things as they come, instead of speculating. That was Cortana's job.

"Where are they now?"

"They're only a few hallways down from us now. I'm stalling for time by pretending to be a simple database. Like a 'dumb' AI, but more so. They call me a VI, and they seem to be getting more confused the more I talk. Especially when I mentioned Earth. They don't even seem to know what the UNSC is. I suggest you go meet them before they find you first."

The former statement struck John as highly implausible.

"How can a human not know what the UNSC is?"

"I have a few theories, Chief. Get us out of here and I might even simplify them enough for you to understand."

This made John crack a faint smile, but he still felt uncomfortable that Cortana would mention Earth.

"You're telling them things about us?" the Chief asked.

"No more than I need to, to get a reaction. I'm certainly learning a lot more listening to them than they are from me."

It still didn't feel quite right, but the Cole Protocal didn't apply any more, so supposed he could forgive it. He didn't like unknown situations, but he was about as ready as he could possibly be to meet these… whoever they were. He performed a few final systems checks on his armor. It was understandably burned, dinged, and melted in places, especially in the center of his chest piece, but internal damage was surprisingly low. The new Mark 6 really was an improvement on his previous sets of armor.

Cortana gave a few more bits of advice. "They're our only way out of here, chief, so don't act _too_ threatening. We might need to give up something in return, so I think we can bend the rules a bit and trade some of the ship's supplies or technology for a ride. Where to, I don't know, but it's obviously going to be better than here." John grabbed several grenades from the weapons cache near his pod and headed for the door.

"And finally, I'd prefer that you don't reveal that I'm actually an AI until we can trust them. Leave me in the ship for now, so I can keep talking. I can spoon-feed the words to you if you seriously start screwing up, but I think you'll be able to handle it." The Chief looked down at Cortana, giving her a nod as he made for the door. "Good luck, John." She gave him a faint smile as he left the cryo bay. Always a man of few words. Hopefully he could handle first contact.

* * *

Meanwhile, Shepard, Tali, and Mordin were discussing the quite frankly insane sounding things that the VI had just told them. Mordin wished to continue questioning it, but Shepard felt that it would just keep saying more nonsense. He voiced this opinion to Mordin.

"Look, do you actually believe that there is _another_ Earth from the future out there, completely devoid of Element Zero, or do you think it's possible that this VI is just malfunctioning in a very strange way? There's nothing more to find out from it." Mordin thought this to be a highly unscientific approach.

"Even if malfunctioning, we haven't even begun to question thoroughly. Perhaps we can find a reason. And still, the fact that there's no Element Zero on this ship, Shepard, how do you explain that?"

"Okay, Mordin, we need to find answers, but not from this thing." He turned back to the VI and asked one more question.

"Is there anything else on this ship that we can get answers from?"

"Records indicate that there is one active crewmember remaining on the _Forward Unto Dawn_. Master Chief Petty Officer Sierra-117 is currently being released from cryostasis."

This took the team by surprise. Once again this VI demonstrated it's tight-lipped nature by failing to even mention that there was a survivor on this ship. Before Shepard could ask why it didn't tell them this earlier, it continued speaking.

"The Master Chief has requested that you stay where you are, so that he may meet you in person."

Well, at least the VI had served a purpose, as there was now an officer he could talk to who would likely be a lot more helpful than this thing, but a rank and a code-name wasn't too promising in itself.

Once again, Tali's curiosity got the better of her, as she said to the VI,

"What does this ship use for FTL travel, without any mass effect fields?"

"Again, I am unfamiliar with the term 'mass effect'. Please re-phrase your query." Now it was starting to seem like this VI had been deliberately programmed to withhold information.

"Possible they don't have any means of FTL." Mordin interjected. "Unlikely, but this 'anomaly' might be responsible for how the ship came to be here."

Just as Tali seemed about to ask her question again, a new voice was suddenly heard over their radios. They had all been speaking through the radios until now, due to the lack of atmosphere, but the newcomer had caught them off guard. It was a male voice saying,

"This is Master Chief Petty Officer Sierra-117. Please identify yourselves." It was a deep, scratchy voice that reminded Shepard a little of Thane, but more rough. It sounded like a voice that didn't get used very often.

"This is Commander Shepard of the Systems Alliance. You have a name under that rank?

"Not one that I'm willing to disclose for now, no."

Shepard sighed. He sincerely hoped that this wasn't going to be harder than it had to be. Because at least eighty percent of the time it was.

"Shepard, do you feel that?" asked Tali, sounding worried.

Shepard wondered what she was talking about for a moment, when he realized that he did indeed feel that. It was a slight vibration in the floor. He couldn't hear it due to the lack of atmosphere, but he could feel a faint rhythmic pounding in his feet, like… footsteps? Shepard began to ask,

"What the hell is tha-" When the abruptly voice returned. It simply stated,

"I'm at the door, I'm coming in now."

The trio spun around to look at the door at the end of the hallway that promptly slid open vertically. Whatever they had been expecting, much like Cortana, this was not it. Tali let out a quiet exclamation.

"Keelah."

What the door revealed was a human figure, except bigger. Much bigger than Shepard had ever seen before. It was covered entirely in a set of green and black armor, like his own, but bulkier, with an impenetrable orange visor. The armor appeared dented and blackened in places, apparently having seen a lot of action. Attached to its, or his, back was a large outdated looking assault rifle. Appearances could be deceiving, though.

The three instinctively took a step back as the armored behemoth entered the hallway. Shepard felt his arm going for his rifle, but consciously forced it down. Whoever this was, he didn't seem hostile just yet.

The Master Chief as he was called, considered Tali and Mordin for a moment, before speaking to Shepard.

"You're commander Shepard I presume?"

"That's right."

"Well Commander, I've never heard of the Systems Alliance before, but you're human, and you have a way out of here. So, I'm requesting your assistance."

There was a silence as Shepard processed what he just heard. Never heard of the Systems Alliance, didn't trust aliens, and apparently needed a ride to nowhere in particular.

"Is there a problem with non-humans?" asked Shepard, concerned. He had seen a lot of anti-alien prejudice in his day, and didn't want any on his ship.

"Not theses ones, no. I can keep myself under control, if that's what you're asking." So, only a problem with _some_ aliens. This was familiar territory for Shepard, too, but somehow it didn't seem to fit this situation.

"Why would I trust you on my ship? I don't even know who you are." Granted, he did let Jack onto his ship _after_ he knew who she was, but that was something he'd keep to himself for now.

The large human seemed to hesitate a moment, and replied,

"If you let me onto your ship, I'll give you permission to scavenge and study anything on this ship."

Shepard sensed that there was a unspoken addendum to his words, that any attempts to scavenge otherwise would be met with hostility. And this human appeared fully capable of being hostile. It was an enticing offer, though. Half of the resources of a warship was substantial, even if it was outdated as it appeared. And one half of this ship was still about four times larger than the Normandy SR-2. Even if the technology proved to be useless, there would likely be stores of preserved food, water, medical supplies, and basic amenities. Probably enough to serve the Normandy for months, all for free. If he could keep an eye on this guy, it could well be worth it.

"All right, you can come aboard the Normandy, but I need your real name first, and I expect to get some answers later."

The armored human seemed to relax slightly, and said.

"It's John. But just call me Chief. Everyone does. Before we go, I need to retrieve a few things, and the VI has important data that I need to keep safe."


	2. Chapter 2

Okay, I uploaded this, and it suddenly it tells me there's 200 more words than it had in my word document, so if you find anything unusual, please let me know. Otherwise, normal reviews are appreciated. Enjoy!

Chapter 2

The Master Chief briskly made it back to the _Dawn_'s cryo bay, and plugged Cortana into his helmet before his new hosts could ask her any more questions. They could have what was left of the ship, but and the data contained within Cortana would be too much. The icy presence one more filled his mind, and he continued toward the ship's armory, near the hangar bay.

"Did you delete everything from the databanks?" John asked. He was willing to bend some rules, but giving them free access to all the data contained in the _Dawn _would simply be going too far.

"Just who do you think you're talking to?" Said Cortana, feigning offense. "Do you happen to remember that I'm the number one intelligence specialist in the entire UNSC? And even a dumb AI would know to do that. By the way, your social skills are rather blunt, Chief."

"It worked." The Chief replied, bluntly, as it were.

"Can't argue with that, but you could have done a little better ingratiating yourself with our new hosts."

"I told them my name, didn't I?" said John. He honestly hadn't wanted to, as the idea of being on a first-name basis with anyone outside of his small "family" was highly unappealing. It was annoying even when Dr. Halsey called him that, and she was the closest thing to a mother he'd ever had. But, beggars can't be choosers, and he couldn't let something as trivial as his name compromise his chances of getting away from here. Practicalities had to come before feelings. Besides, whoever this Commander Shepard was, he obviously didn't know what Spartans were, and he doubted that he'd put up with cryptic nonsense like SPARTAN-117.

"He told you his first, Chief, I don't see what the big deal is." retorted Cortana. She had never felt that names were as sacred as Spartans seemed to think. For an AI of her caliber, any information she needed about someone was usually available almost instantly.

"And now the first thing you go for is weapons, hmm?" she asked as they entered the armory. It was still relatively well-stocked, with a few weapons strewn around on the floor. The battle on the Ark had been so abrupt and haphazard that there had never been time to put all of these weapons to use.

"I don't like leaving anything to chance. Luck will only get you so far." It did seem like luck was usually on his side, but he never gave much credit to it.

"And guns will get you the rest of the way, I suppose?" Somehow he could feel Cortana smirking in his brain. "Well anyway Chief, we should be careful about our weapons choices. Ammunition is going to be a problem. The guns those people are using bear little to no resemblance to our own, so we need to bring anything that we can provide ammo for while cut off from command. And that doesn't include your baby there, Chief." Cortana said, referring to the MA5C magnetically attached to his back.

The Chief saw the truth in this. Considering the way he burned through ammo in a fight, as much as his suit would hold could only last a few firefights. Still, he was reluctant to get rid of it, as it was a familiar, well-balanced weapon that had seen him through a lot.

"I'll get rid of it when I need to." John said quietly. It was a good gun, but equipment is just equipment. What matters is completing the mission and staying alive, no matter how you do it, or what things you lose. He'd find another gun, even if he had to pry it from a corpse like so many others. Cortana accepted his reply with an audible sigh in his helmet.

The thought of his priorities though, the mission and survival, caused a strange feeling to come over him. He suddenly realized that there were now no more missions to complete. Only survival. Ever since he was six years old, there had always been someone telling him what to do, always another clear objective to complete. Plant the device, kill as many as you can, hold out until we can reach you, simple. Now there was nothing. From now on, what he did was up to him. It was an uncomfortable, alien feeling. Mere survival wasn't enough for a Spartan. He had to know that he was doing something to help, but what? He felt a compulsion to find an objective of some sort to work toward. He needed direction.

So, that meant that he needed to find a mission. Regardless of John's suddenly missing command structure, the purpose that he had been trained since the age of six to fulfill was still just as valid. To protect humanity at all costs. Wherever this was, there still appeared to be humans to protect, and where there were humans, there were likely enemies. He would find a way to carry this out, no matter what it took. He'd had full operational command on prolonged missions before, and his share of solo missions as well. This would be like that, only longer. And here was as good of a place to start his new mission as any.

With that issue resolved in his mind, he began to look at his weapon choices. The first obvious one was inside the lone carrying case at the back of the room. On the front was plain white stenciled lettering, spelling the words MODEL 6 GRINDELL/GALILEAN NONLINEAR RIFLE, also known as the Spartan Laser. This was the most powerful man-portable weapon in the UNSC or Covenant, able to burn clean through an enemy tank. The material underneath the beam vaporized so fast that it would create a significant explosion at the same time.

With it were three spare charge packs. The laser received power from microfusion cells, much like his armor. But while his armor could run at full capacity for months or years at a time before it needed refueling, depending on shield usage, these were designed to expend huge amounts of energy at once. If his new hosts had an available supply of Deuterium and Tritium, then he could, in theory, refill the fuel cells and keep it running. John opened the case and hefted it out, placing it next to his MA5C on the magnetic strip on his back.

The next weapon he saw, he nearly stepped on. It was a large, ornate silver handle. The Arbiter's energy sword, likely dropped on his way to the front of the ship. John wondered for a moment if the Arbiter had made it back to Earth. It didn't matter much either way, he supposed, they had still won the war. And there would be little love lost for the former Covenant Fleetmaster. He had certainly done his best to make up for what he had done while in the Covenant, but that wasn't something you could just forgive. John had only worked with the Arbiter out of necessity.

He picked up the handle, and linked it to his suit. A useful piece of reverse-engineering incorporated into the mark VI armor, as his previous sets of armor couldn't activate an energy sword. He saw that it still had an 83% charge, which was good enough for now. The Arbiter must not have been using it much, relying instead on his plasma rifles. A wise choice. Energy swords were flashy and intimidating, and very dangerous at close range, but it's usually a good idea to keep as much distance between yourself and the flood as possible. The Chief decided to keep it, as it could be a dangerous, surprising weapon. Even if it was limited in power, it wasn't much extra bulk. He placed it on the magnetic holster on his hip.

After the Chief had grabbed all the ammo that he could carry for his rifle, only one thing remained. There was a large locker in the room that had been moved there before they had gone through the portal on earth. On the front, it said in large, engraved letters SPEC-OPS EQUIPMENT. Not possessing a passkey, he simply grabbed the lock mechanism and crushed it in his armored fist. He wrenched the door open to reveal hundreds of components and supplies, everything needed to maintain MJOLNIR.

"You know Chief, you could have let me open it. You see, it's possible for me _not_ to destroy things." Cortana said mockingly. The Chief said nothing in reply.

The locker contained extra microfusion cells, repair toolkits, armor components, and testing equipment. He would need it in unknown territory, with no technicians to maintain his suit. As Spartans spent most of their lives inside their MJOLNIR armor, each one knew theirs intimately, including how to perform field repairs and maintenance. John was no exception. Barring something catastrophic, he could keep his suit running indefinitely, given the right tools. He picked up the Spartan Laser carrying case, pulled out the foam lining, and began to fill it with the most essential equipment.

After a few minutes of prioritizing what would fit in the case, the Chief decided that he was as prepared as he could be for whatever was coming. Now it was time to find out what it was.

* * *

As the large stranger left, Shepard stared at the now empty doorway, trying to make sense of what had just happened. He felt his squad member's eyes on the back of his head, and felt like he should do something to retake charge of the situation. He decided on contacting Joker. It was necessary to reroute the signal through the shuttle's communications, as the gas giant's magnetosphere interference was so great.

"Joker, we're going to be here a while, so I'm sending the shuttle back. I want you to find any place you can to dock the Normandy to the derelict, understood? We've got salvage… and a survivor. I'll explain later." Shepard could hear mumbling in the background, presumably his team, as Joker hesitantly replied.

"Um, aye aye, Commander. Moving in." Shepard could hear some of Joker's complaining about a "bad feeling" before the radio cut off. Joker had always been tactless with the radio's off switch.

Shepard activated his Omni-tool, and hit the shuttle controls to return it to the Normandy. He then turned to Tali and Mordin saying,

"Shall we continue?"

The two nodded, as Shepard noticed that the VI hologram was gone, though the terminal was still active. He tried reactivating it with the keypad, but the hologram did not reappear, and the small screen remained blank. Tali took a quick look at it, and shook her head.

"Nothing, Shepard. The system has been wiped." So, the Chief was retrieving files _and_ deleting the VI. Shepard could understand this, but wasn't exactly happy about it. They had little reason to trust each other with secrets as of yet, and VI's could hold a lot of data files that would be difficult to delete one at a time. It would be much easier to delete the whole thing at once. Still, he would have to confront him about what he was hiding.

The trio proceeded in their original direction, and found that the hallway split off in two directions. An arrow pointing left said ARMORY and HANGAR BAY, while two pointing right said CRYO and ENGINEERING. Shepard knew he should have found it strange that it was in English lettering, but considering everything so far, it failed to pique his interest much. Joker then reappeared on the radio,

"Commander, I've managed to dock onto an open rear hangar. Care to tell me what's next, now that we're in such a suggestive looking position? Seriously, I really hope nobody else catches the Normandy like this, we'd never hear the end of it." Shepard caught himself just before he started to chuckle, and hoped he could get that image out of his head. He responded,

"Tell the crew to suit up, we've got work to do."

* * *

After making their way through the plain, gray hallways of the derelict, Shepard's team arrived at the rear hangar bay in the bottom of the ship. Shepard saw the tip of the Normandy, along with the front hatch, protruding into the large hangar door. Some of the crew were already vacuum suited and exiting the ship. Garrus, Miranda, Jacob and Thane were awaiting his arrival, and Grunt was making his way out. Garrus began to speak through the com system.

"I suppose this is the human 'genetic diversity' Mordin keeps rambling about, huh Shepard? They do grow 'em big."

Shepard was about to ask what the hell Garrus was talking about, but noticed that none of the team was looking at him. Shepard turned around to see the huge green figure of the Chief in the doorway behind him, and forced himself not to act surprised. Even given the lack of gravity, this guy could walk softly, especially for his size.

The Chief gave Shepard a nod as he walked toward the ship, considering the rest of the team, and Shepard managed to get a good look at what he was carrying. The rifle was still there, along with another huge, dull green weapon of some kind. It appeared to be a heavy support weapon, and it had roughly the same color pattern as the Chief's armor, but he could only guess as to its nature. In his left arm was a five foot long carrying case, which rattled as the unknown contents shifted in the lack of gravity. On his right hip was something small and silver, but to Shepard, it could have been anything.

The Chief peered into the hatch of the Normandy, as the regular crew continued to filter out, giving him confused looks as they boarded the Forward Unto Dawn. He turned around and said to Shepard,

"Permission to board, Commander?"

* * *

Thirty minutes later, John was standing in the medical lab of the Normandy SR-2, involved in the long process of undoing his armor's various locks and seals. At the same time, he was quietly conversing with the AI in his helmet.

"You're sure they won't find you if they examine the suit?" The Commander had promised that the armor wouldn't be touched for the duration of his medical examination, but it usually didn't pay to be so trusting. Even agreeing to remove it for an examination was pushing his limits, but the Commander had suggested it, and Cortana had been quite insistent on his accepting. She reminded him a lot of Dr. Halsey that way, only less grating on his nerves. And though he didn't like to admit it, he needed it. His wrecked shoulder could be a severe liability in close quarters combat, and his various burns posed a problem if he wanted to keep the majority of his skin. In a tone that suggested she was once again pointing out the obvious to him, Cortana replied,

"I'll be powered down along with the suit, and any attempt to activate it without a compatible neural interface won't work. I'll be quite safe, unless they decide to incinerate the suit for some reason, and there's no chance of finding me when there's no power, Chief. I think of everything, remember?" The AI sounded confident enough, and John supposed that this had to happen sometime anyway. He let his hands continue the automatic process of unsuiting as his mind wandered elsewhere.

He saw the doctor out of the corner of his eye. Dr. Chakwas was what she had quietly introduced herself as. She was sitting at her desk, attempting to act like there was nothing strange about the scene unfolding before her, and trying not to stare at the huge green faceless person in her sick bay. People usually tended to stare while he was around, so at least she was making an effort not to. She had appeared somewhat intimidated when he first walked into the medical lab, despite the large, mean looking alien that had been stationed just outside the door to guard him. Or perhaps in addition to it, he wasn't sure. He thought he had heard it referred to as a "Krogan", though it was difficult to recall exactly when.

Indeed, the number of undocumented alien species they had just encountered was surprising. He didn't hear what most of the species were called during the brief, awkward introductions, but the first two aliens were apparently named "Morden" and "Tally". The taller one whose face had seemingly been torn up by gunfire was "Garrus", the green skinned one was "Thane", and the one outside the door at the moment was called "Grunt". And it was certainly a step up from the grunts he was used to. Quite frankly though, the aliens put him on edge. Even more so than usual. John had little to no experience with aliens outside of killing them, but he knew that he had to keep himself under control.

As far as he could tell, though, the rest of the crew of the Normandy was human. There were other humans as well, Jacob and Miranda, who seemed to be more than just crewmembers. They carried themselves like fighters. Miranda had also been complaining about another person, Jack, who refused to come up and help with the salvage. That sort of behavior wouldn't be tolerated on any ship he'd ever served on. That was his biggest indicator that this was no standard military vessel, but some sort of special operation. That sounded like the behavior of a free agent.

He had been reviewing all of this information in his head, as he supposed he should start getting familiar with the new setting. As Cortana had explained it, he would not be seeing the UNSC for a long time, maybe never. This unsettling news was the fault of the Forerunner portal that had cut the Forward Unto Dawn in half. Cortana had been inconspicuously poking around a few minor systems while avoiding attention of the Normandy's AI, and had learned enough to make a hypothesis about the situation.

The current Earth calendar date was 2185, but they clearly weren't in the past. If it was, humans would still be stuck in the home system, busy terraforming Mars due to population pressure. From a few historical files, Cortana had discovered that this was beyond doubt a different reality altogether. Her theory was that as the portal worked by manipulating quantum forces, or something like that. As it rapidly became unstable, it began to fluctuate between multiple realities.

As most forerunner technology could, the portal generator had sensed a reclaimer on board the ship. Seeing himself as the priority, it tried to place him in a timeline as similar as possible to the one he came from, mostly in regards to humanity. Perhaps it was even the forerunner AI, Mendicant Bias, trying to keep the portal under control as the Ark was destroyed, and him with it. That was nothing more than speculation, though.

Initially the Chief wondered whether this was all some elaborate hoax, but that line of thinking was short lived. There was no other way to explain the various aliens on board, and there was no motive he or Cortana could think of to go to the effort for. And building a ship so radically different from any know design within six months made no sense. Why bother?

All things considered though, the portal could have done worse in it's selection. Human history up until the year 2148 was essentially identical to his own timeline, while the rest of the galaxy was drastically different in terms of alien life. The Earth-based timelines diverged when, in this reality, an ancient alien data cache had been discovered on Mars, while in his own timeline there had been nothing.

John was mostly silent as he tried to digest this turn of events. It was a lot to swallow, but as he usually did when things became overwhelming, he decided to take things as they came. At least in this timeline, humans weren't being hunted to extinction. In fact, they seemed to be doing alright for themselves, considering that they only had access to interstellar travel for 35 years.

At this point, he had reached the stage where armor pieces could start coming off. He said a short farewell to Cortana before undoing the final lock.

"See you in a few hours."

"No need to say goodbye Chief, we'll both be asleep, remember?" Cortana replied.

"We'll see about that." He responded tersely. The Spartan felt even less comfortable being put under for the procedures, but surgery on a shoulder joint while conscious would be a bit much, even for him. He could stay awake if he had to, but it would look very strange to the doctor and the Commander. Not to mention being extremely painful. He could ignore almost any amount of pain when he was moving and fighting, but just lying there with nothing else to concentrate on was a different matter entirely.

The helmet came off first, and the ice water feeling left his brain, and the rest of the armor followed relatively quickly. The sections were set on the floor with a series of loud thuds, and the Chief felt the unpleasant sensation of his burns exposed to open air. He donned the oversized hospital gown the doctor had provided, and sat down on the table.

Dr. Chakwas, who had been observing, began to attend to him.

"My, the damage is extensive. Much worse than I would have guessed from your current functionality." The doctor seemed to have recovered from her uncertainty, now that she was back in her element, and now that he was just another patient. The Chief did not reply to her remark, but motioned to his armor and weapons lying in the corner. He said,

"Everything should be exactly how I left it when I wake up, doctor." He gave her a look not of hostility, but implied hostility. Then again, Spartan facial expressions tended to be so subtle that she might not have even noticed. She seemed slightly taken aback at his warning, but replied calmly,

"Don't worry yourself about that. Commander Shepard gave you his word, and he does not do so lightly."

Seeing that any further discussion would be pointless, he laid back on the table, and the doctor began to apply some type of gel to his wounds, almost immediately dulling the pain. She then stuck an IV into his arm. John was so used to being prodded by needles that it barely registered, but his thoughts soon grew hazy. His mind drifted back to the day he received his augmentations, and his self test of how long he could stay awake. This time though, he was far too tired to try, and he certainly wasn't that kid anymore, with all his friends around him. As his consciousness faded, he made no effort to stop it.

* * *

Several hours later, Shepard was still directing salvage efforts from the hangar bay. About a dozen crates of military-grade MRE's and provisions had been discovered so far. They were mostly processed nutrient-dense facsimiles of real food, and had little taste, but he could sell them on Omega if nothing else. It would fetch a fair few credits there, where many people weren't too picky. When he sampled a taste, it reminded him of his early Alliance military days when this sort of thing was all one ever ate. Even before then, he was quite familiar with the flavor of Navy rations. On many of the starships he grew up on, it was sometimes all that was available. It appeared that tasteless military provisions were near-universal after all.

The crew of the Normandy continued to scour the ship, the more interesting pieces being sent straight to Mordin's lab for analysis. The food stores were sent to the Normandy's cargo bay, as well as other basics necessities, like water and hygiene supplies. As two crewmembers cracked open one of the crates to check the contents, Shepard took a look inside. It looked like several sets of antiquated green body armor. Obviously no shields, but it seemed to have a decent-sized power pack between the shoulders. It didn't seem very impressive, and he doubted it was enough to warrant Mordin's attention. The Salarian worked fast and long, but even he could only do so much.

The next crate was a bit more promising, though. Inside was a set of dull black body armor. Upon inspection, it appeared to give full body protection and had airtight seals for vacuum work. On the shoulder there was an emblem that had the letters ODST printed underneath. Further investigation revealed that the suit had a strong, multi-layer plating with an automatic self-sealant system. It also appeared to have quite a robust electronic intelligence system, with advanced onboard computers. Likely some type of special forces. But still no kinetic barriers. He counted himself lucky in that regard. He'd ask the Chief about details later. This find was good enough to go to Mordin.

Shepard was curious as to what the resident scientist had found out so far, but Mordin didn't like to be interrupted during his work. Anything he did say would probably be incomprehensible anyway.

As the crewmembers carried the crate away, he decided to check in on Garrus, who was now in the armory. He opened that frequency on the com and said,

"Find anything interesting, Garrus?"

The Turian's distinctive voice responded,

"Well, most of these guns still use lead slugs and powder casings. Old-fashioned, but functional, kind of like the rest of this ship. I test fired a few, and the sniper rifle nearly knocked me on my ass. These guns pack a quite a punch, but ammunition is limited to what you can carry which is a big drawback. There's also some run-of-the-mill HE grenades, and a couple rocket launchers, but nothing special. What I'd really like to take a look at is the gun the Chief was carrying. If he chose that over all this, it must be good."

Shepard took exception to this. "Can't do it, Garrus, the Chief and I made a deal."

"Yeah, I get it Shepard. You always did have a thing for honesty. I'll keep you posted if I find anything else."

"Rodger that, Garrus." Shepard replied, and closed the channel. Quite honestly, he was itching to have a look at the Chief's weapon, too, but he had promised not to touch anything while the Chief was down for his surgery. He didn't need another enemy to add to the growing list.

While the crew was busy moving crates, the team was studying various parts of the ship. Tali had unsurprisingly headed straight to engineering, Jacob was working on some vehicles that had been found, and Miranda was scouring the ship for intact data fragments. He had Grunt guard the medical lab in the Normandy, on the off chance that their new guest decide to do something unexpected. Thane was busy mapping the layout of the ship for future reference, a task he was well suited to, due to his Drell memory. And Jack was still in her hidey-hole in the bottom deck of the Normandy, saying that she "didn't feel like moving crates." He was toeing the line with Jack's continued loyalty as it was, and he needed her biotic powers on the team, so he had decided not to force the issue.

Since Miranda was the one searching for information, she was the next logical choice to contact.

"Find anything interesting yet, Miranda?" Shepard asked.

"Not much, commander. Most of the system was wiped, but there are a few isolated systems that I'm checking. So far I've found a crew roster, point-defense algorithms, and apparently this ship is classified as a frigate."

"Interesting… I'll check in later, Miranda." He knew Miranda didn't like having her time wasted with talk.

Shepard had spent much of his life in Navy ships. He had learned almost all there was to know about ship to ship combat, so he knew what the purpose of a frigate was. They were built to be small, fast, and maneuverable. If this is what they considered small… hell he didn't even know if the word frigate meant the same thing to these people, that's how little he knew about the situation. It was time for some real answers.

The surgery was probably finished by now, so learning about the new guest was the next thing to do. Making his way through the Normandy's length, he entered the sick bay. Inside, Chakwas was sitting at her desk, reviewing her findings at her console. On the table was the patient, still unconscious, and half covered by a blanket, his tremendous bulk stretching a few inches off of either end of the operating table.

So, this is what the chief looked like outside his armor. His facial features seemed surprisingly plain, and he was surprisingly pale, ghostly even. Probably from spending more time in the armor than out of it. Still, even unconscious and out of his armor, the Chief seemed to give off an air of being rock solid, physically and mentally. Shepard had a feeling that getting information out of him would be difficult, to say the least.

Shepard could also tell that the Chief's injuries were every bit as bad as they looked from the armor, even after Chakwas' expert handiwork in patching him up. Aside from the recent ones, he could see dozens of faint scars from past wounds. Chakwas quickly spun around in her chair and stood up, saying,

"Commander, I've never seen anything like this before." Shepard, used to her usual calm demeanor, was surprised to see her this excited. He replied,

"Well, hello to you too, doctor." Chakwas only looked slightly abashed as he made his remark, and he continued. "So, what's so unusual? I'm sure there have been plenty of people this tall. It's rare, but not unheard of." The old doctor had a ready reply for this.

"It's not his size, Commander. This man has been augmented extensively, in ways I didn't think were possible. Take a look at this." She motioned Shepard to her monitor. On the screen was what appeared to be a set of transparent human anatomy. He could see muscles, organs, and skeletal structure, layered within each other. "These are all the scans I've taken of the Chief, here." Chakwas explained. "First, lets look at the nervous system." She highlighted the complex network of neurons, and zoomed in.

"It's difficult to tell from this display, but when I scanned him, the electrical activity in the Chief's nervous system was higher than usual. When I performed surgery on the shoulder, I did some poking around, and found something very shocking, to say the least. Commander, his nervous system is no longer bioelectrical. It has been almost completely replaced or coated, I'm not sure which, with superconducting fibers."

Shepard was no medical expert, but that sounded like a pretty extreme overhaul.

"Why would someone do that? What purpose would it serve?" Shepard asked.

Almost impatiently, Chakwas explained.

"It means, Shepard, that this man's reaction times would be faster than any in recorded in history, by any known species. I can only guess how fast that would be, but I would say at least three or four times faster than mine, or even yours, Commander."

So, not only was this guy enormous, but near supernaturally fast, too. Add that to the dozens of scars, and it was clear that he was definitely some sort of super soldier, one who had been put to good use. Before he could voice his thoughts, Chakwas continued to speak,

"But, that's only the tip of the iceberg. As you can see from the X-rays, his bones are extremely dense. I attempted to retrieve a biopsy sample, but…" She motioned to the tray where the medical drill sat, the bit clearly shattered. Shepard contained his surprise, and Chakwas continued

"As far as I can tell, the bones have been reinforced with some unknown composite. It appears that they would be nearly impossible to break. His eyes have been improved with increased blood flow for higher visual acuity. And his muscles are extremely dense, so he is likely even stronger than he looks. I also noticed some irregularities in the thyroid gland, but I haven't been able to pinpoint exactly what just yet."

Shepard contemplated in silence for a moment. Definitely a super-soldier, one that would make Okeer himself green with envy. So far, all the Chief had bargained for was a ride off the derelict, but if he could get him to join the team… No, he was getting ahead of himself. He didn't even know who this person was, or where he was from.

"How long until he gets up?" Shepard felt the questions piling up, and not a single answer so far.

Chakwas checked her data pad, before saying, "Well, I had to compensate for his overactive metabolism with the dosages, it could be a few more hours at… oh my"

Shepard saw what she was talking about even before she said it. The Chief's eyes were open, and he was slowly starting to move. Shepard turned to the doctor.

"Need to recheck those dosages, doctor?" Chakwas, embarrassed at this oversight, said nothing, returning to her console. The Chief sat up, taking in his surroundings, and without a word, pulled out the IV and returned to his armor, refitting it to himself. As soon as he was decently covered, Shepard decided to approach him. Hearing the Commander coming, the Chief turned around and gave his acknowledgement.

"Commander."

Shepard decided to try asserting himself to the newcomer, more than he had done during their last meeting.

"Okay Chief, we've let you come onboard, and given you medical treatment too, so it's about time you tell us what's going on. I want to see you in the briefing room one floor up in an hour, is that understood?"

The Chief merely nodded and continued what seemed to be the very complicated task of putting on the armor. He didn't look cowed, and he didn't look offended. He was just impossible to get a read from, even without the helmet on. Shepard was usually quite good at reading emotions, even with most aliens, but his usual sixth sense wasn't helping him here. If nothing else though, he could tell that the Chief was a very closed individual. So, without another word, Shepard left. As he exited, he could hear the Chakwas saying to the Chief "You know, I would tell you to stay for a post-surgery checkup, but it seems that would merely be an exercise in futility."


	3. Chapter 3

As I'm sure many people were, I was disappointed with a lot of the Halo Encyclopedia's ludicrous numbers for UNSC ships. So, I calculated my own and came up with a more plausible MAC yields. If my math is wrong, feel free to say so.

Chapter 3

Miranda Lawson had never been one to let something as mundane as an empty ship frighten her, but was nonetheless grateful to hear the sound of the crew as she continued her search. The empty hallways reminded her too much of Freedom's Progress and Horizon, everyone gone without a trace. The fact that she could hear anything at all was comforting as well, now that atmospheric pressure had been restored in this section of the ship. Even though the Commander told her it had been a hasty evacuation, seeker swarms kept invading her thoughts as she tried to concentrate.

Even ignoring the lack of crew, though, this ship was foreboding enough on its own. Whoever built it was definitely not concerned with creating a welcoming atmosphere. Miranda was no stranger to space travel, but almost all she knew was the standard white and chrome design of Alliance and Cerberus ships, with their curved lines and ergonomic feel. This ship was just gray and square all the way through. Maybe Tali could feel more comfortable in a cramped, plain environment, but the walls felt like they was pressing in on all sides to Miranda. Mentally shaking herself, she refocused on her assignment.

So far, all the information she had recovered was essentially useless. What she needed was background information, in the event that the survivor decided to be unhelpful. She determined that the terminal in front of her was unsalvageable, and continued into the next room. This one was a bunk room, cramped like the rest of the ship, and no terminals. This ship was clearly designed to operate with artificial gravity, as the beds were on the floor with no fastenings. A few random objects were drifting very slowly through the air, a reminder to the lack of gravity. Not that she needed reminding, as on several occasions her arms had drifted up to her face before she even noticed. Having one's feet magnetically attached to the floor in zero gravity was difficult to get used to. She deemed this room useless as well, and made to leave. How anyone could actually live here was beyond her.

Just as she was about to turn around, a square, white object caught her eye. Floating next to one of the beds was a PDA, obviously so, though she had never seen this particular type before. She picked it up, and saw that there was no holographic interface, only a hand-sized touch screen.

The thought occurred to Miranda that this could be exactly what she was looking for. This was information not connected to the main database. It was currently in a powered down state, but as she touched the surface, it came to life just as if it had only been shut down yesterday. At the top of the screen was the title:

"Communications Technician Charles Lister, 03126-14548-CL, UNSC Forward Unto Dawn".

So, this was a Navy-issue PDA, belonging to a rank-and-file crew member. Likely forgotten in the rush to evacuate. Miranda began to pull up files, but most of them were just technical jargon. One section was labeled 'Journal', though. which seemed more promising. As she pulled up the entries, she noticed that there were only about a dozen, meaning that this PDA was recently issued. The dates seemed to confirm what the VI had said earlier, as the first entry was dated 'Nov. 5, 2552'. It still didn't make any sense, but Miranda was more intrigued by what the entry had to say. She began to read.

* * *

"God, what a nightmare the past few days have been. We were all so relieved when that first Covenant fleet got shot to hell, we barely stopped to think that maybe more were coming. I mean, they attack Earth of all places with fifteen ships? I was surprised that even one of them got through the defense grid. For a minute I was actually hoping that they had simply run out of ships to send, but that was a stupid thought. It never ends. Only one day later, more show up, and just keep pouring in. Big ones, too. Franklin tells me that those assault carriers are five kilometers long, and we've seen four of those so far. Luckily, the Super MACs managed to pound them into dust, but I don't know how long we can keep it up.

From what I hear, were holding the Covvies back for now, but a few keep slipping past with each assault, landing the troops. If they take out the MAC generators, it'll be just like Reach. With the number of ships we've been losing, I feel like I could be atomized at any moment, but if I'm lucky, maybe they'll think the FUD is too small to bother with."

* * *

Miranda was stunned at what she just read. The thought had been nagging at her for some time now, but the evidence just kept piling on. She had considered it being an experimental vessel, a splinter faction, or even a collector trap, but none of them really fit. Maybe it was indeed possible that this ship was from another reality altogether. She skipped ahead a few entries.

* * *

Nov. 8, 2552

"They say Mars has been hit. Jesus, I hope Maria's okay. I've seen a few pictures, and it doesn't look like they glassed the place, but if they sent in the Brutes instead… I don't want to think about it.

There's been a lull in the fighting since the assault on Cleveland, but I guess I should remember the old 'calm before the storm' rule. At least work keeps my mind off things. It's getting more and more hectic out there. The signals keep piling up, and I have to sift through all of them. Earth is a high traffic area to begin with. Add a disaster of a battle like this one, and you've got me working eleven hour shifts. I need to get some sleep."

Nov. 17, 2552

"Well, It's official. We're all screwed. The Covvies have near-total space superiority, but at least we made them pay for it, and it doesn't look like any more are coming. We pretty much just smashed each other to pieces. Not much real information gets distributed to the crew, but us com techs sometimes get the chance to read a few choice transmissions. It sounds like command has been throwing ships at them like there's no tomorrow, and from the looks of things, there might not be.

The last Covvie ships are in Africa, and our measly 22 are on the other side of the planet. What I don't understand is why they don't just attack. They outnumber us, and if they bothered to use that gigantic pointy ship, I'm pretty sure we'd all be dead in minutes. But instead, it just flew right in and landed at the excavation site. By itself, it looks like it could tear the rest of us a new one easily, but I guess they're too busy with whatever they're doing.

No one will tell us what it is they're digging up, but apparently command wants them stopped. If it's so important that they're ignoring Earth, I guess it must be big. So, we're prepping for an assault. It's a suicide mission if I ever saw one, but hey, we've gotten lucky so far. Maybe they're so distracted with digging that they won't even see us coming. And Jameson says there's been talk of a Spartan tearing the covvies up on the ground. I never really trusted ONI propaganda, but Jameson eats that kind of shit right up. He goes on about it so much I'm surprised Section 2 hasn't recruited him yet. But, I guess we all need something to believe in right now. I just wish he'd do it more quietly."

Nov 18, 2552

"It's starting to feel like the universe just turned inside out in the last few hours. I guess it's a good thing that we're not all dead, but it's just been so damn confusing. Apparently the Covenant dug up some huge 100,000 year old alien portal, and it opens up right as we fire on the Dreadnought (barely scratched the paintjob, by the way). Before I even realize that the shockwave made me chip a tooth, all the Covvies suddenly go straight through it. And I guess there's been some big civil war in the covenant that no one knew about, so suddenly we're allies with the guys who've been killing us for the last 27 years. I suppose we don't have much of a choice, but those aliens honestly make me want to shit my pants. And now we're about to go through the portal too. Why? I don't know, but why the hell not?

Oh, and I guess I was wrong earlier. With my own two eyes, I saw an honest to god Spartan on board! And he's just like the ads always said. It was only for a few seconds, but _damn._ The Master Chief looks every bit the killing machine they always made Spartans out to be. And Jameson will not _**shut up**_about it. I think he's testing himself to see how many different ways he can rephrase "I told you so". I am glad the Chief's here, but honestly, what can one person do against a covenant fleet, regardless of how good he is? I guess we'll find out soon enough. I really don't want to die."

Miranda felt her head spinning from this sudden rush of information. She needed to get this to Shepard immediately.

* * *

After the half-hour long process of re-donning his armor, the Chief was standing outside the door to the briefing room. To an outside observer, he would appear to be doing nothing but standing eerily stock-still, but in reality he was conversing with Cortana, discussing plans for the future.

"You really ought to consider the Spectres, Chief. Near total operational freedom, as long as you get the job done, which you always do. And this time you wouldn't have to deal with angry admirals. Remember Côte D'Azure?" Cortana suggested. The Chief wasn't so fond of this idea.

"I'll work with aliens if I have to, Cortana, but I don't work _for_ aliens. Not to mention all the questions that I don't want to have to answer. I want to talk to the Commander first, anyway. This looks like a primarily human operation, and with all the specialists on board, they're obviously preparing for something big." The Chief replied. John knew joining the Alliance military was out of the question. It would be a complete and utter waste of his talents, and there wasn't even a major war going on. Not to mention that he no longer had a unit to be a part of. Putting him in any unit besides the Spartans would just result in a lot of babysitting, or simply outpacing his comrades, which would make unit cohesion near impossible. He didn't even know if they could technically allow it, him not being from a member nation of the Systems Alliance.

All of this new information had been learned from Cortana's brief connection to the "extranet" terminal in the crew's quarters, along with another interesting fact. Apparently much of this reality's advanced technology was based on a substance called 'element zero'. A human or alien exposed to dust-form "eezo" has a chance of developing biotic abilities, which allows them to manipulate dark energy with their minds. What this meant in a practical sense was essentially telekinesis. On the battlefield, you could injure or kill someone with it, or simply leave them exposed to gunfire. The Chief wasn't sure how it would affect himself, weighing more than five times that of an ordinary human, but he doubted that impact damage would incapacitate him. He would need to be careful, though, lest he find himself dangling in the air, peppered with bullet holes.

Cortana, noting that their time until the briefing was almost up, decided to move on rather than argue her point, and gave the Chief a warning.

"It's your decision, Chief. But I wouldn't trust these people too much, even though they patched you up. From what I've learned, this organization is called 'Cerberus', and they seem to have a pretty dark reputation. There's a surprising lack of specifics, so I don't know if it's just bad press, but their defining characteristic seems to be ruthlessness. They may be happy to have a soldier of your caliber, or they may just want our technology, so whatever you do, don't let your guard down."

That was the last thing John had planned on doing, as he still had all of his weapons attached, ready to be drawn within milliseconds. Interestingly enough, just as he was thinking about not letting his guard down, his helmet's auditory sensors picked up two sets of feet moving toward his position, and two blips appeared on his motion tracker. Though the Chief had naturally good hearing, it was one of the few parts of him that remained unaugmented. He had learned several years ago that the research team considered it to be unnecessary, since the suit could enhance hearing for much less money than a surgical procedure. Not to mention that more sensitive hearing would be easier to ruin in a noisy combat situation.

The door to his right slid open with a hiss, and Commander Shepard, along with Miranda, entered the hallway. The Chief the saw what they had been discussing. It was a technician's PDA from the Forward Unto Dawn. The Chief wasn't too worried, as the most it would do is make explanations easier, but it also meant that he now had less of an informational advantage, depending on what the PDA had contained.

The Commander and Miranda paused as they noticed the unmoving set of armor next to the briefing room door. Miranda was the first to speak, saying,

"I'd better make my report to the Illusive Man." She handed the PDA to the Commander and left, leaving the two to a very awkward silence. The Commander, wanting to take charge of the situation, spoke up,

"Well, Master Chief, as you can see, I am unarmed. I would consider it a good show of faith if you were to leave your weapons outside the door."

So, the Shepard was willing to take a risk with him. No doubt they would be monitored by the ship's AI. If he tried anything, it could instantly seal the bulkhead, and without his laser, he doubted he could break get through it. Maybe Cortana could hack the door open, but maybe not, as they still didn't know "EDI's" capabilities. He had no intention of behaving violently, though, so relinquishing his guns would be acceptable.

"Once again, I expect to find them exactly where I leave them, Commander."

Shepard nodded. "Of course."

The Chief waited for the Commander to enter first, then followed. As the door slid shut, the Commander turned around. He held up the PDA and said,

"Miranda found this in the crew's quarters. It leads us to believe that you aren't from around here. In fact, Miranda thinks that you're from about as far away as it's possible to get. I just want to know once and for all. Are you really from an alternate reality?"

So, it was finally out. So, how much to tell? John decided that if asked a direct question, he would not lie, but would not add more than was necessary. Best to keep things simple.

"Yes, I am. My estimate puts the timeline divergence at 2148, after my review of extranet databases."

The Commander did not seemed overly surprised, and continued his questioning.

"I suppose that means no Prothean ruins were found on Mars. The journal entries in this PDA say that you were fighting aliens known as the 'Covenant'. Who were they?"

The Chief noted that Shepard was doing a good job of not being intimidated. Few normal humans could look a Spartan straight in the facemask unflinchingly, but some uncertainty was still there. Once again keeping it simple, the Chief rattled off the answer like an encyclopedia.

"A collection of eight different alien species unified in a religious hierarchy."

The Commander, not deterred by this detached response, continued,

"Why were they attacking Earth?"

"Earth was the last remaining center of military power in the UNSC. While a significant amount of colonized space remained, if Earth was taken, the rest would quickly follow. They were also interested in forerunner technological assets in Africa."

"So the Forerunners are the 100,000 year old aliens the Journal mentioned?"

"Yes."

"Why were the Covenant at war with the you?"

Hmm, this could be complicated. Should he tell the Commander the whole story, or lie by omission? What would be acceptable to tell? John supposed that Shepard deserved to know the _mostly_ everything. He had kept his word so far. He'd tell everything but details about Spartans, and Cortana. Probably best to downplay the importance of AI in the UNSC altogether.

So, he began to speak, reciting a brief history of the Covenant war, from Harvest's sudden silence, to the battle of the Ark. With his succinct style of speech, along with skimming over parts he considered unnecessary or too sensitive, it took the Chief no more than seven minutes to tell the entire 27-year story, all the while the Commander's face growing more intrigued and incredulous. He ended with his entry into cryostasis, saying that he set the VI to wake him automatically if it detected anything. As he finished, there was a silence, while the Commander tried to absorb the entire strange story. After a few moments, he pulled himself back together.

"So, they thought complete genocide was preferable to the truth." Remarked Shepard, his expression dark. "Not only is that evil, it's ludicrously shortsighted. They should have known that they couldn't possibly hunt down every single human, no matter how long they looked. The galaxy is just too big." The commander sighed. "Do you suppose the Humans and Elites will maintain the peace?"

The Master Chief thought a moment, and said,

"I know we can't afford another war. Not that I like it." There was an unexpected edge to his tone in that last sentence. This was especially jarring, since up until now there had been nothing but indifference in the his gravelly voice. Awkward silence followed, until Shepard spoke.

"So, what about you? From the PDA it sounds like Spartans have quite a reputation. Where did you come from?" The commander asked.

John cringed inwardly. The last thing he wanted to talk about was his missing family. Worse than them all being dead was the torturous uncertainty of not knowing either way. His reply was short and terse.

"Super soldier program initiated by the Office of Naval Intelligence section 3. Received extensive training in all manner of arms and vehicles, biochemical enhancements for improved performance, and highly advanced reactive power armor to exploit increased reflexes."

"So I assume there were other Spartans?" Asked Shepard.

The Chief very sincerely did not want to talk about it.

"Yes." He stated in his most discouraging tone.

More silence, as Shepard seemed to get his meaning.

The Chief decided that there had been enough exposition. Short though it had been, it was difficult for him to speak even that much. Now it was time to get to the point.

"If you want more details, I can transfer some history files to the ship's AI. My suit's computers are quite adaptive. But now that I've explained my end, I'd like to know just what you're doing here."

The Commander seemed taken aback by the Super-soldier's sudden inquisitiveness.

"What do you mean by that?" He replied.

"This is obviously a well-funded, well-armed, yet non-military operation you have going on. It's a small team of combat specialists, many of which are aliens, being funded by a supposedly human supremacist group. So it looks like there's a larger external threat here, and I want to know what it is."

Shepard didn't realize that the Chief had learned so much yet. He thought about is response for a moment, and said,

"I've been trying to convince people for some time, but no one wants to believe it. I suppose you know about the attack on the Citadel two years ago?"

The Chief nodded. He had read about that in the data Cortana downloaded, and it didn't slip past him that the hero who saved the council in that battle was the same person in front of him, despite being supposedly dead. The Commander continued:

"Well, the flagship of the assault fleet wasn't just a ship. It was a Reaper, part of a sentient machine race. I learned about them firsthand. They live in dark space outside the galaxy, doing god knows what out there. We don't know why, but every fifty millennia or so, they invade and destroy all sentient organics. They can control the mass relay network from the Citadel, and cut off all transportation and communication. At the Citadel, we managed to keep Sovereign from activating it to recall all of the Reapers, but they're still out there, ready to do the same thing to us that they did to the Protheans."

Now it was the Chief's turn to be confused. It was a strange tale, to be sure, but John realized that his probably sounded even more out there. But somehow it didn't seem to be the whole story.

"So why assemble ground-combat specialists to fight giant sentient ships?"

Shepard promptly replied,

"The team is for a different, but possibly related threat. A species call the Collectors is kidnapping colonies in the terminus systems. They paralyze whole settlements al once and haul them all off. I don't like working with people as ruthless as Cerberus, but they're the only ones who recognize the threat, the Collectors and the Reapers. I've been sent to gather a team, find out their connection to the Reapers, and stop them."

An interesting mission. Unknown territory, with an unknown objective, against unknown enemy strength. Sounded like a breeding ground for "snags", but at least he was no longer responsible for the team's safety. On that unexpectedly bitter thought, John made his decision. Every regulation in the book screamed at him not to, but the old rules didn't apply anymore. John then said to Commander Shepard,

"In that case, Commander, I request to join your team. This cause is as worthy as I'm likely to find."

There was silence, and then, surprisingly, Shepard cracked a faint smile. He looked up into the golden faceplate, and said,

"I thought you might say that, Chief. Reading that PDA, it seems like you Spartans are known for being superhuman killing machines. We need all the help we can get right now, so as long as you don't cause any trouble on the Normandy, your abilities will be put to good use."

Shepard held out his hand, and the Chief's alertness instinctively spiked. Quickly realizing what Shepard meant by it though, he awkwardly took the hand in his own and shook it. The Commander had a strong grip, one he could actually feel through his gauntlet. His new commanding officer then asked, "Where would you like us to set you up, J-… I mean, Chief?"

The Chief winced as Shepard nearly used his name. It was only a slight twitch, but for a Spartan, it spoke volumes, and the Commander noticed.

Getting past this little slip-up, the Chief though a moment about his possible lodgings. A ship this size probably didn't have a gym.

"Anywhere with open space if you have it, so I can continue my training."

Suddenly, what appeared to be a holographic orb on a pedestal popped up from the table, which said,

"The cargo hold should be quite suitable, if privacy is not a concern."

So this was the AI Cortana was avoiding. The display appeared pretty basic. Most AI's he was familiar with preferred a more elaborate form, but he couldn't make any judgments on its ability. He nodded and responded,

"That'll work."

The Chief held his hand over the AI's terminal, and Cortana silently uploaded relevant history files into EDI's databanks.

As both soldiers made to leave, John had one more question.

"So what was it I heard about you being dead?"

"Oh, that? You can thank the Collectors. They attacked my old ship, and I got spaced _and_ thrown into re-entry. Cerberus found my corpse and rebuilt me after two years. That's how I got these." Shepard explained, pointing to his scars.

Huh, actually bringing someone back from the dead. Impressive. Such a feat may have been theoretically possible with the UNSC's technology, but there wasn't anyone who would be considered worth the effort. Whenever a Spartan died, there was never enough left to put back together. That's just how Spartans go out. And it's not like they could afford expensive research like that with the Covenant knocking on their front door.

Well, this Commander Shepard definitely wasn't a Spartan, but the Chief was beginning to feel less worried about serving under him. He was certainly no stranger to the battlefield, where the Chief had spend most of his life. He felt like some parting words were in order.

"Yeah, re-entry isn't fun. You're lucky you weren't alive to feel it." With that said, he picked up his guns and made for the elevator, leaving Shepard looking a bit confused behind him.

* * *

Half an hour later, Shepard was once again pondering the Chief's words. Fell from orbit? He decided to worry about that later, though. From the lower deck, Shepard was overseeing the loading operation, which was nearly finished. Several vehicles had been found, such as a small VTOL aircraft, a tank that appeared slow but durable, and a few Warthogs, so-called "light reconnaissance vehicles", but were quite large nonetheless. None of these were really worth the cargo space, though, with only the more interesting parts being taken.

Shepard made his way to the Tech Lab, where Mordin was working at an even more frantic pace than usual. He didn't even notice Shepard standing there until he cleared his throat. In his trademark motor-mouth speak, Mordin said,

"Ah, Shepard, glad you came. Just read report from EDI about new team member. Questionable decision. Unknown mental state and background, but possibly worth it. Anyway, knowledge of origins throws salvaged tech into new light. Have reference point to work from. History files particularly intriguing, but, no time to perform more thorough cultural analysis. Must discuss what we have here." He motioned to the table, where the presumably more interesting pieces lay. Mordin picked up a square chunk of gray metal.

"Performed chemical analysis on wreck's external armor. Interesting titanium alloy. Good tensile strength and ablative qualities. Better than standard warship material, but not at strong as new Silaris upgrade. Interesting, but not wholly groundbreaking in and of itself. Most intriguing part is that the vessel is classified as a frigate, yet has full armor coverage 60 centimeters thick. Standard Alliance cruiser has no more than 35 centimeters. Obviously to compensate for lack of kinetic barriers. Massive amount of weight, yet still maintains relative maneuverability. Ship must have impressive acceleration capability." Shepard considered stopping him, but he was still being mostly comprehensible. He let Mordin continue his monologue. The scientist picked up a playing-card sized metal chip with a circular hole in the middle, and said,

"Yet more interesting is this. Found in lower databanks. Powerful storage device, empty, lacks any actual processing power. Data stored in crystalline molecular structure, giving much higher storage density than anything I've seen so far. But why create fragile storage device when remote communications data transfer much easier? Haven't been able to figure that one out yet. Oh, and another is-"

Shepard decided that was enough.

"Mordin, have you found anything we can use yet? I don't have all day."

The old salarian, undeterred, continued,

"Impressive amount of superconducting material on ship. May upgrade some of our weapons for greater efficiency. Room temperature superconductors have been produced in small amounts, but always prohibitively expensive. This 'UNSC' must have found way to mass produce such a material. Superconductors also allow for massive energy output in ship's main gun. Read specs on Magnetic Accelerator Cannon. Fires _enormous _slug at 265 kilometers per second. Weighs about 600 metric tons. Kinetic energy equivalent to 5 megaton blast. Recharges slowly, but as a rough estimate, that vessel has same kinetic output in 2 minutes as an Alliance dreadnought, including broadside guns."

Shepard was trying to keep up with Mordin and comprehend the aforementioned numbers at the same time, and it gave him another of the day's many overwhelmed feelings. One slug containing 5 megatons of kinetic energy. That was enough to one-shot a standard dreadnought's shields. This was technology definitely worth looking into. Mordin continued,

"But, what is most interesting is FTL possibilities. Alternate universe uses so-called "slipspace travel". Tragically, slipspace drive lost with front half of ship, but still proves theoretical possibility of non element-zero based FTL. Mass effect FTL more a constraint than anything. Static discharge requirement major drawback. Reapers spoon-feed sapient races element zero tech to maintain predictability in technological evolution. If we could somehow produce our own slipspace drives," Mordin gave a long inhale,

"it may just give the edge we need to beat Reapers. Will attempt to find solution as best I'm able, but don't have much to work with."

Shepard figured this might be something else to talk to the Chief about later. For now, he decided to leave, as he began to feel himself losing his breath on Mordin's behalf.

"I'll let you work." He said, leaving the lab.

Over the intercom, Joker's voice appeared,

"Commander, Sergeant Gardner says they're finished loading the crates. All crew members accounted for, ready to disengage."

"Do it Joker." The commander replied, and a few moments later, a shuddering sound reverberated throughout the ship as they disengaged, and rose away from the gas giant, resuming their previous course to Ilium. They still had the Justicar to recruit. Shepard felt his previous fatigue kicking back in, and was in desperate need of sleep, but figured he should go down to see the chief's accommodations first. It would be nice to talk to Tali, too. She always seemed to have a way of making him forget his stress. Maybe it was the way he didn't really feel like he needed to see her face to talk to her. Her personality seemed give her a face all on it's own.

Lost in thoughts such as these, it was particularly jarring to hear Yeoman Chambers say, "Commander, the Illusive man wishes to speak with you." On his way to the elevator.

Shepard barely managed to keep himself from cringing.

"Thank you Kelly." He said with the best show of enthusiasm he could muster, which wasn't much. So, instead of stepping inside the inviting elevator, he walked back around to the room he had just barely spent quite a few uncomfortable minutes in, to talk to the king of discomfort himself. He supposed he had to sometime, anyway, though.

Stepping into the circular holographic display, he once again saw the face of his enigmatic ally, who spoke,

"So, Shepard. I hear you've gotten a new recruit. Miranda forwarded all available information, as well as the video of your interview."

The Illusive Man took a drag from his cigarette.

"The ship is an unexpected windfall. I've got a science team en route to do a more thorough analysis, but I want to talk about the your new shipmate instead."

Shepard kept a straight face, though the person in front of him was trying his patience.

"What about him?"

"You seem rather quick to trust the Chief. It was clear that he agreed to join you purely out of having nothing else to do, and that may prove to be shaky loyalty."

More second-guessing. Great. Impatiently, Shepard replied,

"He's spent 27 years fighting threats to humanity. I doubt he'd shoot me in the back because the Collectors offered him a deal."

The Illusive Man took another drag. "I'm not saying he'd actively try to betray you, Shepard. I'm saying that you may find someone with such long and brutal combat experience frequently questioning your judgment on the battlefield, which does not lend itself to an effective team. You need to find some way of making him realize that you are in charge, before he attempts to subvert your authority. Even so, his combat prowess may prove to be worth it. As always, the judgment is yours, but be careful Shepard. I'm sure we both have much work to do, so that is all" He touched a control on his chair, and the hologram faded into nothing.

* * *

For the next few minutes afterward, Shepard was down in engineering, listening to Tali talk about her findings from the engine room. He responded to what she was saying, but didn't have much to input. Tali was an engineer far above his level of understanding, and much of what she said was beyond him, but he didn't ask her to simplify. He was content just to listen for now. From what he could tell, the fusion array was a new design that improved efficiency by at least 18%, and made heat management much easier. It also had the capability to temporarily boost output to 300% standard capacity with it's unique overlapping design. Though she had no specific schematics to build one with, she had forwarded her findings to the flotilla, who's scientists may be able to cobble up a prototype. Even just the theory behind its workings could be a major boon to the flotilla. As Tali finished speaking, Shepard asked,

"Do you know how the Chief's doing so far, Tali?"

"Well, he came down and introduced himself earlier. He seems to keep to himself mostly, so there shouldn't be any problems. I think he's set up a firing range in the cargo bay, but we've got nicely insulated bulkheads. He seems civil enough, but it's hard to see there actually being a person under that armor. He seems more like a machine. It's strange."

"What's strange?" Shepard asked.

"It's just that we Quarians would do anything to safely take off our helmets and let others see us. But there's nothing medically wrong with the Chief. It's strange that someone would want to stay hidden like that." There was silence for a moment, and for the first time that day, it wasn't awkward. Tali spoke up once more.

"You know, Shepard, you really should get some sleep. You don't look so well. I should probably turn in too."

Shepard, finding this idea agreeable, smiled at her, and said

"You're probably right. I'll talk to you later, Tali." Before he left, Tali said,

"Thanks for coming to see me Shepard. This was an exciting find."

As he walked to the elevator, Shepard noticed that his steps were a little less heavy than when he came.

* * *

The next day, Shepard was in the mess hall, eating with the rest of the crew. The ship's clock said 6:00 PM, though Shepard had only woken three hours ago. He was feeling slightly hung over from extensive stim use, but still felt better than he had in quite a while. He was very glad that he had remembered to order those new provisions from the Citadel, or else he might now be choking down dressed up protein paste. After voraciously eating his meal, he was about to do the rounds, when Joker's voice filtered through the intercom once more.

"Commander, we need you up at the bridge. We've found something."

Once at in the control room, Shepard asked what happened. EDI replied.

"We were discharging the drive core into the planet below us, when I picked up a distress signal from the MSV Corsica, which went missing several weeks ago. I advise we investigate the cause of the crash."

Joker couldn't help but snark at this.

"Yeah, I think the computer really is in charge now, and none of us noticed."

Ignoring the pilot's comment, Shepard considered this. It wouldn't take long, and more importantly, it would be a relatively safe place to see how the Chief worked as a team. He was part of Shepard's team now, and he needed to know his capabilities, and if he could follow orders.

"All right, take us in. Tell Tali and the Chief to get ready for ground action, and get the shuttle activated."

"Sure thing commander." Joker replied.

As Shepard walked to the armory, he was less concerned about the cause of the crash, and more about the Chief. They didn't know if there would be any action, but he wondered if the Spartan would be able to quickly adapt to very different new weapons. 27 years was a long time to get used to something. Well, as the old, and horribly clichéd phrase went, there was only one way to find out.


	4. Chapter 4

**First of all, I'm sorry about the delay. I'd blame writer's block, but I'm willing to admit to being a lazy ass for a couple of weeks. I've had a few other story ideas kicking around, so much so that I probably didn't give this one enough attention to get it done sooner. And as always, reviews are much appreciated.**

**By the way, if you're interested in the Halo storyline, I've put a pretty detailed analysis of UNSC ships in my profile, and a more in-depth look at how space battles in Halo would work. This is mostly just me filling in what's never explicitly stated, and rejecting some parts of canon that don't make sense. Most halo fans realize that there are contradictions aplenty in Halo canon, so a lot of this is just a solid reference for my own future writing.**

**In all, it's a pretty pragmatic interpretation of Halo space warfare, but it still fits the narrative of Halo just fine. Feel free to send me suggestions or requests for my entries. Just know that I'm pretty set on and willing to defend my choices for MAC power, but if you have anything more nitpicky, I'll take it into consideration.**

* * *

Chapter 4

In the time that he had occupied his new quarters, John had eaten his usual double ration, which was nervously delivered by the ships mess sergeant, gotten exactly nine hours of sleep, shaved the heavy stubble off of his face, set up a firing range, and was currently in the midst of adapting his fighting style to the new weapons. The Krogan through the upper level window had given him a few curious looks, but he paid this invasion of privacy no mind. A Spartan's home is in their armor, not wherever they happen to be sleeping.

Though he tended to prefer his MA5C, he had to admit that the reloading process for these new guns was indeed much faster. Acquiring new heat sinks would be easy due to their near-ubiquitous nature, since fallen enemies would be likely to carry extras. The weapons' telescoping properties also meant that he could now carry three guns and his Spartan laser at once, with the ammo being interchangeable between them. This meant that he no longer had to ditch a gun that was out of ammo. This had all been explained to him by operative Taylor in the armory, who seemed polite enough, given that he was talking to a giant faceless suit of armor.

Sniping would be difficult to adjust to though, since the bullet fly-time was now much less. Leading the target like he used to would be a difficult habit to break. Not to mention that his enemies would now be using projectiles that were essentially impossible to dodge, unlike most covenant weapons. As he struck his various targets with pinpoint accuracy, hearing the distinct sounds from the hypersonic rounds, Cortana spoke up,

"You know this is pointless, right Chief? Sniping practice at 35 meters, with stationary targets? That's a little bit like running 'brushing-your-teeth' drills for you, isn't it?"

The Chief had to admit she had a point. At range of the interior of the cargo bay, it would be almost impossible for any Spartan to miss. Linda would certainly find it amusing if she could see this.

'No.' He thought, cutting that line of thinking off quick, 'Can't think about that now.'

Memories of his Spartans had been bothering him since he left for delta halo. They'd been separated for that pointless and unwanted award ceremony on Cairo station, and he never received so much as a whisper as to where they were since. In some ways, that was worse than him knowing they were dead. If that were the case, he'd at least be able to put it behind him.

So, for the moment, he was distracting himself with the new weapons. As for his current loadout, John had already tested the assault rifle, shotgun, hand cannon, battle rifle, SMG, and the Sniper rifle at least four times each. By now it was pretty clear to him and Cortana that he just wanted to keep his mind off things. Like the fact that any slim chance he had of finding out the state of his fellow Spartans was now virtually zero. He responded to the AI,

"Alright Cortana. But what else is there to do?"

"Oh I don't know, perhaps, interact? Shocking suggestion it may be, but if all you ever do is shoot at things and talk to the invisible woman in your head, people might think you're a bit unstable."

Interact? John couldn't think of a single thing that would be less appealing. Not only did he not know these people, he had almost nothing in common with them. Fighting a losing 27 year war had a way of coloring one's perception, and he doubted there was anyone in this entire galaxy that could relate. Cortana must have known this. Why would she suggest something like that?

"Cortana, you were there when every single person we cared about was killed. Then you were tortured to near rampancy by the Gravemind. Why do you still act like this? I'd expect you to take things a bit more seriously after what we've been through."

Surprisingly, Cortana didn't immediately respond. She actually seemed to hesitate, before saying,

"John, I was awake for six months while you were asleep, with nothing to do but watch. I don't know what the Gravemind took out of me, but it's possible that I'm now past middle-aged. If you only had seven years to live, I doubt you'd dwell on things very long either."

The lack of the usual wry amusement in Cortana's voice was jarring. After this, the Chief became silent, as the realization hit him that his one remaining friend in this universe might too be gone in a few years, while he would continue living for maybe another hundred.

Cortana had been there since before Reach fell. She was there when they landed on Halo, she was there when he was forced to cave in Captain Keyes' rotted skull, she was there when he encountered the Gravemind, and was there when he destroyed the Ark. The most gut-wrenching thing he ever had to do was leave her behind in High Charity, and when he had to get her back, she was the only thing that kept him going through the Flood-choked hallways and the Gravemind's psychic taunts.

The thought of losing Cortana again was almost enough to send him into despair, but as always, he simply couldn't allow himself to. He had to keep going no matter what happens, because that's just what he did. Keep going when there was no one else left. He'd deal with this problem when it came, just like any other.

This intercom provided a sudden but welcome distraction from this line of thought, as the Normandy's pilot spoke,

"Uh, Chief? We've found a wrecked freighter, and the Commander says you're going with to investigate. Get prepped to board the shuttle." He sounded unsure of himself, giving the Chief an order, but the John quickly replied,

"Acknowledged."

Machinery came to life on the other side of the crate-filled hangar bay, as the clamps holding the shuttle lowered it to the floor and released.

* * *

There was near silence on the way to the planet, the only sound being the slight shaking of the Kodiak drop shuttle, while Tali'Zorah vas Neema was fiddling with her omni-tool, running calibrations on her combat drone. Adjust the mass effect field strength, tweak the discharge power. It was mostly pointless. She had polished the specs of her drone to a mirror shine a long time ago, and had the highest efficiency she could get with her current hardware. She was now just making tiny, inconsequential adjustments. However, she had nerves, and had to clear her head somehow.

Shepard told her that he didn't know what caused the crash, and that hostiles were a possibility. She was no stranger to firefights; she'd been in dozens since she began traveling with Shepard. But still she found herself getting jittery. Once more she mentally cursed herself. Shepard didn't look nervous, and the Chief… well, he didn't look like he felt anything. The enormous human just sat in the corner staying completely still, not regarding either of them. This did little to help her current disposition.

The shuttle's slight shaking they had felt since entering the atmosphere evened off, and there was a thud as they touched down. The door opened, and with almost unnatural grace, the Chief pulled out his rifle and quickly took point. After Shepard exited, Tali followed, and peered into the valley below. There were dozens of crates scattered around, and at the opposite end of the small gorge was the largest section of the broken ship. Tali analyzed the sight in front of her. She couldn't tell what caused the ship to crash, but the force of the impact indicated that the ship had lost all thruster power and mass effect fields before hitting the ground. A ship with functioning systems would still be more or less recognizable. She looked at Shepard for orders, who said,

"Lets see if we can find out what caused this. There might be data pads or terminals we can salvage." Tali nodded, as did the Chief, who made off at a brisk pace.

Over the next half hour they scoured the wreckage, and with the few logs they had found, concluded that the mechs this ship was transporting had suddenly activated and begun self-destructing, damaging enough systems to cause the wreck. Apparently the VI had gone haywire, but they couldn't find any specifics. There was no sign of hostiles. When they got back to the ship, they'd report the crash to the Alliance, and they could be on their way. Shepard activated his omni-tool to access the beacon, then pointed to the bottom of the valley.

"The distress beacon is down there. All that's left is to deactivate it."

Upon reaching the source of the signal, Shepard examined the banged up transmitter. A few taps on his omni-tool, and the slight humming cut out. After such an anticlimactic voyage, Tali felt all the dumber for getting so nervous. What was she expecting? For a legion of husks to come charging out of…

This though was abruptly cut off, as a green blur that she recognized as the Chief flew past her. She heard gunshots. Automatically going for her shotgun, she saw dozens of security mechs coming straight at them, and took cover behind one of the many crates. Shepard had dived in the opposite direction, and was now out of sight. How would shutting off the beacon cause them to activate? There was no time to consider this, as she heard an order from Shepard on her radio,

"Tali, get to the right and flank them, I'll keep them…" He began to trail off "occupied…" he finished quietly. Wondering what was wrong, Tali responded,

"Talk to me Shepard, what's going on?"

After a few more seconds, he answered,

"Tali… look."

Not knowing what he meant, she peered out from behind her cover. There were still plenty of security mechs out there, but none were firing in her direction. They were all focusing on the Chief, who appeared to be moving faster than she had seen anyone move in her life. He was diving from cover to cover, firing his assault rifle near-constantly, only pausing to cycle the heat sinks. The mechs filled the air with bullets, but the few that contacted were halted by his strange yellow kinetic barrier. Meanwhile, the mechs were dropping like flies.

As the Chief ran for the next crate, there were two mechs in his path. This didn't seem to bother him, as he simply swatted one with his forearm, sending it flying, it's torso unit shattered. The other was directly in his way, but as he dove behind the crate, it failed to slow him at all. Instead, it was steamrolled underneath him. The mech was still partially functioning, though, and tried to raise its gun, but soon found its neck in a vise-like grip. In the most surprising thing Tali saw yet, he placed his boot on its chest and pulled. The head tore off like a toy. Those mechs were lightly armored, but were still composed of strong alloys and ceramic composites. Just tearing one apart with your hands wasn't something even a Krogan could do.

For the next few moments, Tali watched as the mechs tried to surround and pin the Chief down, but found it impossible. He moved far too fast for their simple programming to follow. The mechs kept pouring in though, as fast as the Chief could destroy them. Shepard reappeared on her radio.

"Tali, let's move."

"Yes, Shepard." She responded. They still had to get back to the shuttle, but it seemed like this task would be considerably easier now. The shipping manifest had said there were 180 mechs in this shipment, but how many were still intact was unknown. Tali sprinted forward, and found cover to the right of the Chief's kill zone, content with picking off mechs from the sideline.

Tali may have gotten pre-fight nerves, but once the fight came, she could handle herself quite well. Her method was always slow and careful. She may not have been able lay down fire as precisely and artistically as Shepard, or charge in and kill things as brutally as Grunt, but she didn't take any risks she didn't have to, letting her drone do the work, and taking down her enemies' shields with her Omni-tool whenever possible. She wasn't going to put herself in danger now, when she clearly didn't have to. On the other side of the valley, she spotted Shepard, who had adopted the same tactic, but with his sniper rifle..

The first of mechs wave slowed to a trickle, most of them headed for the Chief, so the group managed to move closer to the shuttle until the next wave arrived. This repeated three times before they got near it. Mechs were mostly coming from behind now, but at a slower pace than before, presumably because of the large dent in their numbers.

Tali considered making a break for the shuttle, but before she could consider it further, she heard a very unwelcome sound. It was unmistakably the pounding footsteps of a YMIR mech, a ten-foot-tall, heavily armored behemoth that most people would only dare to face with a gunship. She knew there was no way to fight this thing alone, but before she could even try to fall back, the mech spotted her. It fired a rocket.

There was a deafening blast, and Tali found herself sprawled upon the ground, shaken and disoriented. The crate she had been hiding behind was in splinters, and her kinetic barrier was down. She faintly heard the YMIR's minigun spinning up, and realized that it was over.

* * *

In the midst of demolishing the horde of sleek white robots, which were considerably weaker and slower than his usual opponents, the Master Chief heard an unfamiliar noise. He quickly placed several rounds from his assault rifle in the heads of the two robots in front of him, and turned to see a hulking white form fire a rocket at his alien teammate's position. It was too big for her to handle alone, that much was clear. The rocket made contact with her crate.

The Chief felt Spartan time kicking in once more, the rest of the world slowing down. There was no time to take the machine out with his Spartan laser. He would need to unholster, aim, and charge it, by which time the Quarian would be dead. He dashed forward as fast as his armor would carry him, crushing another robot into the dirt in the process.

The dust from the shattered crate cleared, and John saw the Quarian on the ground, stunned and completely exposed. The large robot's other arm made a sound easily identified as another weapon. Just as it was about to finish the her, he dove at it.

With no time to even drop his assault rifle, he slammed it into the mechs arm just as it began to fire, causing the gun to buckle under the pressure. The first few rounds tore the assault rifle in half, and the next few flew right into the Chief's face, dropping his shields to sixty percent. His fingers managed to find a good grip on its arm, and he forced it away from himself.

This machine was strong though, and extremely heavy. It tried to aim a rocket at him with its left arm, but he grabbed that as well, and a grappling match began, the heavy mech trying to bring its guns to bear, and the Chief avoiding them at all costs, while holding onto both simultaneously. The robot moved slowly, but had a lot of force behind its movement. John's power armor strained to keep the two-ton machine at bay. The Chief knew that if he let go for even a moment, it could be the end of him or the Quarian. Though he didn't feel any particular affinity for the alien, his job was to keep his team alive, and that's what he'd do, if he could just find a way to take this thing down.

Since both of his hands were occupied, he decided to use his legs instead. Shifting his weight momentarily to his right foot, with the left he lashed out at the robots knee joint. The vicious kick landed, and he felt the armor dent with a satisfying crunch. Not enough though, as the machine was still pressing down on him. He kicked again in the same place. This robot was clearly not very intelligent. All it did in response to this assault was continue to try forcing its weapons on him. He was beginning to regret not bringing the energy sword, but there hadn't been much reason to expect hostiles, and he didn't want to raise questions about his ace in the hole.

He kicked again, and yet again, each kick causing the knee plate to crumple some more, until finally it fell off. As he was about to deliver the final blow, his shields glowed gold, and his the bar in his Heads Up Display began to drop.

"Behind you chief!" Cortana shouted. Sure enough. more small robots were coming up behind him, firing at their now stationary target. As he tried to figure a way to keep from being riddled with holes, he turned to see one go down to the Quarian's shotgun, while another of the group began shooting at its comrades, causing the others to become distracted. The alien, it appeared, had a few useful tricks, and had his back for now.

Refocusing on the more pressing matter, he continued to slam his armored boot into the now-exposed knee joint. Just a few kicks later, and the giant machine faltered. One last kick caused the robot's leg to crumple at an odd angle, and it fell forward, the Chief dodging out of the way just in time to avoid it landing on him. The giant machine was now down, but not out, still trying to aim at him from the ground. The Chief didn't let up, though. He pulled out his Sniper rifle and placed a round directly into its head. He repeated this, and dodged the spray of bullets coming from its arm. He unloaded six heat sinks into the fallen giant before it finally stopped moving. A high pitched beeping that clearly meant a failsafe detonation emanated from the dead hulk, and the Chief threw himself away from it as fast as he could. The blast rocked him backward and dropped his shield 25% but this barely phased him.

The shuttle wasn't far now, and the Quarian and Shepard were carefully moving his way under the hail of bullets coming from the remaining robots. "Tali" as he had recently learned her name was spelled, was staring at him. Though he couldn't see her face, she probably had the same look he always got from the marines, whenever he flipped an overturned warthog, or broke a Brute's neck with his hands. He laid out a few more robots with his sniper rifle, providing cover for his teammates as they sprinted to the shuttle.

The trio climbed in, and the Normandy's landing craft hastily took off.

* * *

Tali was still regaining her breath as the Kodiak drop shuttle headed for orbit. As the adrenaline began to wear off, she noticed a sharp pain in her abdomen. She looked down, and noticed a piece of shrapnel sticking out of her, lodged in the armored under-layer of her combat suit. It luckily hadn't penetrated, but she would definitely be feeling that blast for a while. She pulled it out and flicked it on the floor.

She still wasn't quite sure that her eyes had told her the truth about what just happened, but she was fairly certain that the Chief had just taken a Heavy Mech hand-to-hand and won without much trouble. To look at him now, you'd think it had been nothing more than a light jog.

As she recalled, the blast had happened, and things were a blur for a few seconds afterward. She then looked up to see the silhouette of a dark green figure in front of a large white one. All she could do was stare, until the sound of approaching LOKI mechs awakened her from her disbelieving trance. When they said Super-Soldier, they hadn't been bosh'ing around. And now the Chief had saved her life. She had to be sure to thank him somehow, but he was so off-putting that she couldn't think how to approach him.

After they had some time to regain their composure and breath, Tali noticed that Shepard looked angry. Not "this was all my fault" angry, Shepard wasn't one to dwell on failures like that. Not "always with the goddamned mechs" angry either, but definitely angry about something. Sure they had been ambushed, but they made it out just fine, and the Chief had delivered a spectacular performance. Tali couldn't see why he'd be mad about a successful mission.

Tali's lifetime of living in cramped quarters had made her, like all Quarians, very finely attuned to the social atmosphere around her. She could feel an almost palpable increase of the tension inside the shuttle, as Shepard stood up and said,

"Chief." One thoroughly displeased sounding word was enough to get the Spartan's attention, who looked at the Commander. Shepard continued to speak,

"Next time, you take cover and wait for my orders when something happens. I don't know if you're used to working on a team, but you don't pull stunts like that. Ever." His words were slow and deliberate, seemingly trying to fit the largest amount of displeasure possible into each one. The Chief talked back,

"I was merely responding to an immedi-"

"You don't respond like that!" Shepard snapped. "If you sprint off to kill things by yourself, your teammates get left behind. If we're too spread out to provide mutual support, well, just look what almost happened to Tali." Tali was surprised to see Shepard like this. She'd never seen him this angry before. The Chief had just saved her life, and now Shepard was saying that he was responsible for endangering it in the first place. It was very confusing to the Quarian. Shepard continued,

"If we'd been more coordinated, we could have taken down that Heavy from a distance, with little risk to any of us. Instead, your actions endangered one of my crew. Next time, we do things the safe way, and you wait for orders, is that understood?" Shepard stared the Super-Soldier down, who responded,

"Understood, Commander." and said nothing else. His body language was unreadable as always, but his voice betrayed his resentment. Shepard sat back down. About a minute passed when quietly, but loud enough for the Chief to hear, he added

"Thank you for helping Tali, Chief." It was grudging gratitude, but there nonetheless. The Chief nodded in acknowledgement, and the trip back to the Normandy proceeded in silence.

* * *

A few hours later, Shepard was sitting at the desk in his quarters, reading the files given to him by the Chief, which he had used to update his personal codex. His main interest at the moment was Spartans. The Chief had told him a few things, but was, as usual, sparing with information. The main entry on Spartans read:

_Originally intended to quell insurrectionist rebellions, Spartan-II commandos were selected from the absolute best that humanity had to offer. After given extensive biomedical augmentation, Spartans could have been considered near untouchable in terms of strength, reaction time, and speed, but this was not enough for UNSC commanders. To make the most of these augmentations, Spartans were also outfitted with the absolute bleeding edge of military technology - Project Mjolnir, a highly advanced set of powered armor. Weighing almost 400 kilograms, but still allowing the user to move several times faster than normal, this armor was also given the most refined sensors, communications, computers, and power systems that human technology had to offer. _

_However, all this came at the price of being phenomenally expensive, resulting in production costs that rivaled some shipbuilding projects. Another drawback is the fact that if anyone besides an augmented human tried to use Mjolnir, they would find themselves critically injured or dead within seconds, due to the hyper-reactive nature of the suit. Only those with near-perfect physical control, such as Spartans, can safely use it._

_After the Covenant invasion of 2525, the focus of Spartans shifted from insurrectionist control to defense of besieged planets. In doing so, they were known to garner every major commendation that the UNSC had to offer, apart from the prisoner of war medallion, as no Spartan has ever been captured to date._

_While scoring victory after victory on the ground, the Spartans found themselves incapable of affecting the outcome of space warfare, where the real fate of planets was decided. Despite this, when the Office of Naval Intelligence went public with the program, the Spartans became humanity's most visible heroes, raising morale across the entire UNSC._

Shepard closed the entry. There was some interesting information in it, such as the Chief's armor and these "Insurrectionists", but it still felt like it wasn't the whole truth. It was pretty clear that there was more than just the Chief in the Spartan program, but he had never specified where his Spartans were when he was fighting on the Ark. Perhaps that's why he didn't want to talk about it. Maybe they were all dead. This would explain his reluctance toward teamwork with anyone besides his Spartan group.

Shepard had been reading these files for some time. He had to admit that the UNSC had some impressive technology for its lack of element zero. Miniaturized fusion reactors, highly compact nuclear weapons, artificial gravity, gigantic space elevators, and of course, the Magnetic Accelerator Cannons. Add to this an industrial base more than an order of magnitude greater than the Systems Alliance, and the UNSC could lay out a lot of firepower. The fact that they were losing for almost the entire 28-year war was a huge testament to the power of this "Covenant".

He looked at the clock next to him, which read 10:34 PM, but suddenly blinked, -_synchronizing with local time. _It then read 3:21 PM. That meant that they were very close to Ilium. It would only be a few more minutes now, and they could venture out to find the Justicar, the over 900 year old asari warrior. He wasn't sure exactly what a Justicar was, and could find very little about it on the extranet, but what he had heard seemed to imply great power.

Shepard didn't know how to convince her to join, but his status as an undead, citadel-saving, ex-spectre seemed to carry some weight. He hadn't known how to recruit Thane or Mordin either, so he'd just improvise, as usual. There was also the matter of relocating Miranda's sister, which would take place in two days. That meant the crew would be getting a good, long shore leave. They needed it. He had noticed that his crew was looking a bit fatigued lately, and Ilium would be a great place to spend their substantial Cerberus paychecks.

All that was left was to decide whether to bring the Chief or not. The Spartan was potentially his greatest combat asset, but Shepard wasn't sure if he could trust him in a firefight around civilians. And there were a lot of civilians on Ilium. He ultimately decided against it. Having the Chief around was bound to but a damper on any diplomatic situation they might encounter, but Miranda and Garrus would work just fine. He could always trust Garrus to cover his back, and Miranda knew her way around Ilium pretty well, in addition to her substantial biotics.

Over the intercom, Joker spoke up once more;

"Approaching Nos Astra on re-entry vector, entering atmosphere in two minutes."

* * *

Two hours later, the Normandy SR-2 was docked at the Nos Astra spaceport. After the crew had received the news of a 72 hour shore leave, they had all jumped at the chance for a break from the confines of the relatively small ship. Even Grunt and Jack had come out of their respective holes, likely to make their way to the seedier areas of the city.

Leaving the ship unguarded was no issue. Only an idiot would try to violate security in this area of Nos Astra. The image of being a safe place to trade was what drew millions to Ilium, and the planetary government wasn't about to let that image be tarnished. And even if someone did try to break in, EDI was more than capable of keeping them out. After Shepard, Miranda, and Garrus had left to find their next team member, only one organic being remained inside the ship, the Master Chief, who was currently arguing with the artificial intelligence in his suit.

"Cortana you know I don't like being in public. And I doubt that I could just blend in." The AI was getting impatient,

"Chief, all I want to do is go out for a few hours for some firsthand information gathering. We can read all we want on the extranet, but we can't be sure just how different this universe is until we see for ourselves. This planet is a hub of alien culture, and I can't just pass this opportunity up. Information gathering is what I'm for."

"Which goes back to the problem of me being in public." John replied.

"Look, you don't need to go to crowded places, and you don't need to talk to anyone. Can't you just take a girl out on the town for once?"

John couldn't help but quietly chuckle at that one. He did have to admit that it had only been eight hours since the mech incident, and he was already getting restless. He didn't know if he could take another three days of doing nothing, on a ship with no gym and no proper firing range. Spartans always had to do something, as they spent most of their lives either fighting or in cryostasis.

"Alright, let's go" He said reluctantly. He sincerely hoped he wouldn't run into large crowds. He might accidentally step on someone's foot, which would probably involve hospitalization for the unlucky person.

"Oh, and no weapons, Chief." Alright, this was a bit much.

"Cortana-"

"No, John. Your armor is enough of a weapon by itself, and we don't need the police giving us a closer look than they already will. Besides, this city's got the best security outside the Citadel. We'll be fine."

Giving his guns (including his replacement assault rifle) one last reluctant look, he headed for the elevator, unaware that the Normandy's AI was watching him very closely.

* * *

Half an hour later, John was walking down the ground level streets of Nos Astra. The general cleanliness and kilometer-high skyscrapers reminded him of New Mombasa, except with more flying cars. He wished he had something to hold onto, though. The lack of a weapon in unfamiliar territory was unsettling. Even though his combat instinct told him he was safe, old habits don't die easy.

Pedestrian traffic in this area was sparse, but the few blue-skinned aliens he had passed seemed to stare quite a bit, and gave him a wide berth. Those that walked in pairs could be heard whispering furiously when he passed. He supposed they had no reason to call the police on him for just walking, but he still didn't like taking the chance. Whatever happened, he wouldn't let himself be taken in. He simply couldn't allow it. If he complied with the police, Shepard could get him out eventually, but they'd take his armor, and probably discover Cortana with it. AIs being illegal in Citadel space, they might have her destroyed. He didn't let Guilty Spark take her on Halo, and these aliens would have no such luck either.

Cortana wasn't as talkative as usual for this trip, taking in the sights, and soaking up as much information as could possibly be gleaned from anything the Chief's helmet-cam saw. There were numerous wireless networks around, but she restrained herself from conspicuous hacking. She still had to maintain secrecy, and she wasn't going to compromise John for her curiosity. Besides, this alien world provided quite enough new things to analyze. Architecture, economic systems, government, observing how these "Asari" interact. It was fascinating. An all female race that resembled humans, and could reproduce freely with any other sapient species. UNSC personnel would definitely have preferred running into these aliens rather than the Covenant, for more reasons than just peaceful relations.

The Chief and Cortana continued down the street in the shade of the enormous skyscrapers, Cortana doing the sightseeing, and the Chief trying to act like there was nothing unusual about his presence. Cortana would make comments on her observations, seemingly innocuous differences from their home universe. Mostly things that the Chief had never experienced to begin with, his former civilian life being so long ago that he didn't even remember what his last name used to be. He still wasn't comfortable with the idea of being out here, but Cortana seemed to enjoy it, and he could deal with all the strange looks.

As they continued the walk at a brisk pace, they entered the outskirts of Nos Astra, where the buildings were shorter and less well-kept. Not exactly run-down, but in poorer shape compared to the sparkling clean central area. It was near the entrance to a back alley where Cortana said,

"Chief, wait. Listen." John did just that, turning up the volume on his audio feed, and heard a faint female voice coming from the alley. There was a door in that direction. Not an automatic one like most in this city, but manually operated with a handle. It was slightly ajar, and the voice came from within. He heard it say,

"Mr. Kant, Eclipse gave you that loan when no one else in the galaxy would help. Now we try to collect, and it's just gone? Every last credit? With no accounts, investments, or traceability to show for it? Eclipse… frowns on such behavior, Mr Kant. You've been warned twice. Eclipse doesn't send commandos to give warnings."

A different voice tried to stammer a response, but was cut off.

"I see you've been packing your things. Ah, and you bought a ticket to Omega. Thinking to hide, perhaps? I almost wish you would have made it Mr. Kant. Disposing of bodies is so much easier there."

A trio of shots rang out. John's motion tracker picked up four blips moving for the door, as an armored Asari burst out of it, with three masked figures following, two human and one "salarian" as he remembered they were called. For a split second, the presumable "commando" stared at the large figure in front of her.

A this moment, John had a choice to make. He could run, and probably lose them, but that would mean they'd keep looking for him indefinitely. Or he could attack, and take them out before they could report him to their superiors. It was a pretty simple choice.

The Asari raised her assault rifle, but before she could get a shot off, he dashed forward and smacked it out of her hands, following up with a punch to the chest plate. As the commando flew back, the other three opened fire, draining his shield bar to half. The chief grabbed one and snapped his neck, pulling the SMG out of his hands. He then delivered several close-range headshots to the other two mercenaries, and turned to face the Commando, who was getting back up with a large dent in her armor, and looking very angry.

Blue energy surrounded her, and the Chief felt a strong force pushing him backward. Against it, the apparently cheaply built gun started to break, and the Chief ditched it. So, this was biotics. This would be the first time he ever faced them in combat. The Asari was obviously straining to keep pushing him away, and couldn't use her sidearm. So, John took the initiative, forcing himself forward against what felt like an extremely powerful river current. He slowly got closer to the commando, and the energy field began to weaken. Only a few feet from her, and it gave out so suddenly that John flew forward, tackling the alien to the ground. There was still defiance in her eyes as he lifted his fist up, and brought it down on the Asari's face like a pile-driver. The fight was over.

Letting the blood slide off the shield around his fist, John heard Cortana's voice in his helmet.

"Let's get back to the ship quickly, Chief. Someone will have heard that." John silently complied, heading toward the center of the city slowly enough not to be suspicious. It looked to be a long three days, not coming out of the Normandy again.

* * *

**Hope you enjoyed it folks! By the way, I always kind of though that Bosh'tet equated to something like "shit-head" in Quarian language, thus Tali's particular use of the word bosh. A bit silly, I know, but what the hell. Also, when I was typing the words "over 900 year old", I felt such a temptation to put OVER 9000! In there instead, but I refrained. I'll probably regret it in my later years.**


End file.
